


Happy Accident

by catdragone



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Consent, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fluff, Happy, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mando doesn't know how to touch people, Mando needs a hug, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attack, Protective Grogu | Baby Yoda, Rating May Change, Romantic Gestures, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, Sweet, Tags May Change, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, Touch-Starved, he's learning, mentions of abuse, nothing by mando!!!!, post-Season 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28801554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catdragone/pseuds/catdragone
Summary: The exhaustion of the past few days had ebbed away once he met the eyes of that strange passenger. The only thing he could equate it to was the weightless infinity of hyperspace travel. He saw depths in those eyes, depths that had seen and endured much, but had found solace in few. Wholly, painfully lost eyes.***Upon being inconveniently discovered as a stowaway on Nevarro, Yona flees pursuit by ducking into the first hiding place she could find...a beat up, old Razor Crest (belonging to an equally beat up, old Mandalorian). But before the Mando comes back, she finds solace in a little green companion.This piece is meant to be fluffy and sweet (our MC is "Yona" rather than Y/N), but know that our beskar boi doesn't know how to deal with emotions. Sit back, relax, enjoy the ride :)
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 63
Kudos: 220





	1. What a good day to break the law

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! Thanks for checking out my story :) Some notes: I've tried to remain as close to the Razor Crest's layout as I can, but some minor details may be off. My plot is still very loosely planned, so if you have a moment you would love to see written with our Mandalorian, feel free to pitch it to me!

Run. Run. _Run._

A single word ran through the forefront Yona’s mind, a roaring crescendo. Of course, the rag-tag ship she had stowed away on incessantly warned of low oxygen, forcing the pilot to land sooner than scheduled. Of course, the planet had to be Nevarro, of all places. And of course, the mechanic would check every inch of the ship, finding clues of a hidden passenger. The moment he left the craft, she darted out, drawing the attention of the pilot.

Yona spared a glance over her shoulder, and sure enough, there he was. Spouting profanities and gaining ground too quickly. She directed her attention back to escape, scanning the shipyard for any inkling of hope. Weaving through various working crews, she took a sharp right between two ships. Another turn, squeezing through two stacks of cargo boxes. It felt as though all the air in her lungs had been left on that confounded ship.

Trembling with adrenaline, she made one more turn and crouched behind a rusty, well-worn speeder bike. _If I took this, I could cover some ground quickly. I’d outrun them for a day or two._

She shook the thought away. _I’d be lucky to make it to the lava flats._

Heaving lungfuls of sandy air, her head turned to regard a model she had not seen before. Two large engines poised above a bulky hull that had seen far better days. A sole mechanic was working on the engine farthest from her. The metalwork was scuffed with blaster marks. Not a very hospitable prospect…but the hatch was _open_.

Yona could hear shouting in the main street she had diverted off of, soon she would lose her cover. She pulled up her dark green hood, checked behind the bike one last time, and darted the 100 feet that lay between her and the craft.

The inside of the hull was dim as she scanned for any sign of life. She heard tools whirring in the cockpit above as she searched for somewhere to hide. A few steps to her right and she shuddered as she saw the carbonizer, beginning to regret this plan. Suddenly, the whirring stopped. Yona lengthened her strides away from the freezer and past the ladder she assumed went to the control room. She slid between the far wall and a towering, locked cabinet, barely out of sight.

A portly, grease-covered ship technician descended the ladder, eyes glued to the data pad in her hands. She muttered to herself before stomping down the ramp to call to the engine worker. Yona pressed up against the wall, nails almost scraping against the metal in anticipation, before she felt a slightly raised section. Glancing down at her hand, she could have cried in relief. A button! Resuming her watch of the ramp, she used the slightest degree of pressure to push into the panel.

A light _whoosh_ and the metal rose, revealing a claustrophobic bed space. The bedding was unmade, a brown lump of coarse fabric in the far corner. While not the best option, at least it would keep her out of sight. Yona clambered in, quickly closing the hatch behind her. The light flickered in the compartment but continued to illuminate the space.

Finally given a moment to rest, a huff of breath escaped her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. _Mother was right, running would get me nowhere but trouble._ An exhausted tear fell down her cheek, carving a trail through the grime on her face. She sniffled.

Or rather, something sniffled.

Yona froze, feeling a stir by her thigh. The slow movement of her head to face it juxtaposed by the fast pounding of blood in her ears. In what felt like a century, the lump of brown blankets righted itself and looked at her with immensely black eyes. It cooed at her, reaching out a little tridactyl hand.

Yona was shell-shocked. Firstly, who leaves a baby alone on a ship surrounded by bounty hunters? Secondly, is…it a baby? She gently brushes the brown, blanket hood off the child’s head, revealing two lengthy green ears. If she wasn’t so mortified, she would have laughed and scooped it into her arms. As it was, she withdrew her hand cautiously and picked a little piece of dried meat from her pack. The child was _very_ interested. She placed the offering on the ground, hoping food would garner favor with it.

Those black eyes blinked at her before crinkling slightly in a full, toothy smile. With a triumphant babble, the child stooped to grab the food, promptly swallowing it whole. Yona began to relax her guard, even as the creature waddled toward her. It almost seemed to imitate her slouch against the same wall, looking up expectantly.

“Is this your ship? Hm?” Yona tried.

The child cooed again and tilted its little head.

“I suppose not…You’re a bit young for a pilot. Are you trapped here?”

Unblinking silence. Perhaps it didn’t understand her after all. She fed it (perhaps unwisely) another piece of her limited provisions.

“Well, maybe you’ll appreciate a bit of bribery. I just hope whoever’s keeping you is as understanding –”

A chorus of voices outside. Angry, stomping steps at the mouth of the ship. Yona held her breath, holding the young one closer to her.

One voice rises over the rest, placatingly, “Look, I get your situation, but this isn’t your ship! You gotta wait until the owner comes back!”

“No, you _don’t_ get my situation! That thieving little mouse cost me a week’s worth of rations. If I don’t get ‘em now I’ll lose my compensation,” the pilot blustered. 

Yona scoffed in disbelief, looking at the meagre offerings in her bag.

“…In fact, they’ve probably got a shit-stained chain code, the rat. All the more reason to tack ‘em down here for a bounty!”

“Look, just let me get in touch with the owner and we can work something out,” comes the technician’s weary voice.


	2. In which Din is tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV switching in this chapter! From Mando's perspective I refer to him as Din. Please enjoy!!

~Din~

Din was exhausted, running on 6 hours of sleep…interspersed throughout the past 4 days. Greef Karga’s chatter did nothing for his nerves, insisting on accompanying him back to the _Crest_. The energy needed to wave him off was better used in worrying about the child stowed away in the ship. When he took his helmet off to shave (far too long ago) he was convinced he spotted new gray hairs at his temples.

“I’m telling you Mando, ever since those Imps left, things are bustling! I haven’t seen this kind of success rate in a long time,” Karga sighs smugly, “Of course, I’m sure you understand. The new jobs must provide most convenient funding for your ventures with your son.”

  
“Karga…” Din exhales, a flicker of relief in his voice when he sees his ship ahead of him, “Why are you still here?”

“I have…one more puck for you, if you’ll take it. Pays handsomely, low risk. How about it?” He propositions.

“Why didn’t you bring it up in the cantina?” Din asks, wary of the other man’s tone.

“It’s very… _private_ matter, supposedly. Wanted an absolute guarantee of success. A higher up--”

“Ah! Thank the stars,” A sudden interjection draws their attention. The technician he left in charge of the _Crest_ rushes to him, trailed by a fuming, portly human.

“Is that your ship?” The stranger growls at him, “I’m looking for a thief. Didn’t get a good look at ‘em but they’re in there, I’m sure of it.”

“Your child’s still in there…right?” Karga mutters discreetly. Din leans slightly to regard the open hull of the craft. No sign of the child, hopefully he’s still safely hidden. He examines the strange man, tired eyes hidden behind his visor. Red-faced and breathing heavily, the man was unarmed.

With a sigh, the Mandalorian steps past the welcoming party. He tilts his head, listening for any sounds of distress. The only noise he finds is the shuffle of sand under the dry wind of Nevarro, rogue grains of it pinging on his armor. They would be losing light soon, and the plan was to leave at dusk. Or, at least, it was.

Din reaches the ramp, softening the tread of his boots on the metal.

As Din steps into the _Crest,_ he raises a hand to halt the group behind him from entering. Changing his beskar helm to thermal imaging, he scans the hull. As expected, the kid is still hidden in the cot compartment. Less expected is the larger signature curled up next to him. The hand on his blaster clenches, drawing the weapon from its holster.

He strides briskly to the panel, gloved hand reaching for the button. Disengaging the safety on the blaster, he opens the compartment.

~Yona~

The door opens and Yona startles. She peers up, expecting to meet the angry eyes of the pilot, but meeting an opaque, T-shaped visor instead. She freezes. Her new friend, however, becomes much more animated. He lets out a sweet, little cry and raises his arms to the Mandalorian. He looks between the two of you, as if waiting for you to exchange introductions.

The Mandalorian just continues to stare, blaster still firmly targeting her head. Yona slowly raises her arms, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible. She and the child must have been a sight, arms up in the air like a pair of Kowakians.

“Please…don’t shoot,” Yona tried to fight the tremble in her voice, she really did. The Mandalorian’s blaster arm remained unmoving, his other hand reaching down to beckon to the kid. The little guy waddles over, hands wrapping around one of his fingers and tried to pull the hulking mass of beskar over to where the two of them were sitting. With a weary drop of his head, the Mandalorian deftly scooped him up with one arm and pressed the button to close the hatch once more.

Yona blinked. _I guess I’m more convincing than I thought?_

~Din~

Din didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t that. The exhaustion of the past few days had ebbed away once he met the eyes of that strange passenger. The only thing he could equate it to was the weightless infinity of hyperspace travel. He saw depths in those eyes, depths that had seen and endured much, but had found solace in few. Wholly, painfully lost eyes. The child, now safely residing in Din’s arms, fussed and wiggled, still facing the direction of the stowaway.

Din turned back to the open ship, realizing he’d been staring listlessly at the wall between him and the woman. He occupied himself in feigning search in a few more nooks around the hull before returning to the group waiting outside.

The angry stranger piped up, “Find ‘em?”

The Mandalorian shook his head and walked past him, reaching into his coin pouch to pay the technician.

“Damn! I was certain that rascal was here. Any ships leaving tonight? Maybe they’ve found another place to hole away.” The man marched over to the engine mechanic with his questions, exasperated.

Having paid for the ship’s maintenance, he turned to Karga, “You mentioned another job?”

“Right! Always straight to the point. I’ll check in with the Guild files and get you the info. It came in today, so it might take a little while to get things settled,” Karga clapped his hands with the smile of a true businessman, “I’ll dispatch the info to your ship and send someone over with the tracking fob.”

“Before sundown,” Din intoned, weariness seeping back into his bones.

“Roger that!” Karga left with a lazy salute and an affectionate tweak of the child’s right ear.

The Mandalorian just sighed, turning back into the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kowakians are monkey-lizards, you may remember one of them from the old Star Wars movies in Jabba's palace. Thanks for reading <3


	3. Looks aren't always what they seem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!! Things are happening! It's been a slow start, but I promise we're getting places. Just a quick note, I've been using a planet map to figure out where things are and Nevarro is not actually on the official galaxy maps b/c it's new lore-wise. For our purposes I've got it swimming in the space between Mandalore and Mon Calamari (since they used Mon Calamari flan in the series) If you're interested, here's the map I've used thus far! 
> 
> http://www.swgalaxymap.com/
> 
> Please enjoy! Other detail elaboration at the end.

~Yona~

Yona waited for the angry stomping of the pilot, for the inevitable yelling and commotion to reach her hiding place and drag her out for answers. Her head conjured half-baked plans of how to rush past them, out of the ship, and back into the town. She could make for the street, get lost in the crowd. But where could she go from there? With a Mandalorian around she’d be apprehended in no time.

She closed her eyes, listening to muffled voices, too far to make out. And then, nothing. A few moments of silence. One set of even, clunking footsteps growing closer. She was cornered, nowhere to run. One last sigh of freedom passed her lips, muscles tensed and trembling with adrenaline. The hatch _whooshed_ open one more time.

“Listen, I don’t care where you go, just don’t get caught next time,” came a modulated voice.

Her eyes snapped open, meeting once again with the beskar visor of the Mandalorian. The child cooed and reached for her from his arms.

“What?” Yona whispered, voice raspy with tension. The Mandalorian stepped aside, giving her a path out of the compartment.

“They’re gone,” He tilted his head toward the ramp, where no one waited to apprehend her.

Yona shakily stepped out and stood, still looking up to where she assumed his eyes would be. He remained motionless, statuesque.

“Why?” She was stunned. Was this a trick? When was the last time someone had shown her kindness?

“Go, before I change my mind,” He says flatly.

“Okay! Okay,” Yona scurried away quickly, peeking out around the entrance as an extra precaution. When she found no blasters pointed her way, she turned back to him shyly, “Thank you.”

He gave her a stiff nod, placed the child on the cot, and watched her for any sudden movements. Yona regarded her new green friend, offering him a little wave before returning to the sand plains of Nevarro. She kept her dark hood up, pulling on the sleeves of the garment to hide more skin. Locks of hair kept venturing into her eyes. As she retraced her steps back to the busy street, she fidgeted with her clothes, wanting to sink into the crowd.

It would be nice to stay under a roof tonight, but the risk was too high. No matter what she did, she still felt _his_ eyes on her. Today was too close, she can’t risk getting caught again. The less people noticed her, the better.

~Din~

Din sat in the cockpit of the _Razor Crest_ , looking over the information Karga had sent him about the job. It appeared simple, search and retrieve. Specifically, “search and rescue,” but in his experience those who run from home tend to not want to be “rescued.” The target in question was a woman, missing for roughly eight days. She was to be retrieved and brought back to Coruscant in good condition.

The child fussed next to him, trying for the tenth time to escape his bassinet and get down the ladder. Din had begrudgingly given him his favorite silver ball after the fifth time, but the child would not cease. His determination was cute at first, now it was massively unpleasant. After placing him back in the pod, Din gave him a firm look. The kid seemed miffed with him, chewing incessantly on one of his gloves that those little hands had dragged off in his struggles. The Mandalorian returned his attention to the assignment.

He was given the chaincode and basic physical description, as well as last known coordinates. Strangely, the job had only been posted yesterday, even though the target was suspected to have left the planet within two days of disappearance. Also vexing was that the client had not provided a picture and the trip was expected to use up a lot of fuel. In spite of this, the payment was significantly higher than his past few jobs combined.

A light _thunk_ signified that the child had escaped his pod an eleventh time. Din wearily swiveled his chair to face him.

“Okay, womp rat. We’re going soon, got it? I just need the fob,” The kid looked at him and babbled before turning back to the ladder. As if on cue, he heard a call from outside the ship. Din scooped up the kid and clambered down.

A slightly sweaty Sullustan waited for him at the mouth of the _Crest_ , “Looks like you’re lucky on this one.”

The Mandalorian cocks his head, questioning. The Sullustan holds up the fob, the red light blinking moderately.

~Yona~

A sudden breeze filled with sand sends Yona into a fit of stifled coughs. Hidden among a mountain of cargo boxes, she pops her head up to survey the loading dock once more. Seeing no movement, she huddles back into her dusty cloak and takes stock of her provisions. She was running dangerously low on the credits she’d brought with her. She should have taken more rations from that ship; the amount in the bag wouldn’t get her very far. Her stomach growled in protest.

Ignoring her bleak collection of supplies, she turns back to the map. The tangled web of planets, stars, and highways was difficult to make out under the dim moonlight. She ran her thumb over different paths, ending always at Yavin 4. Hospitable, not highly populated, under the radar. _Not far now._

_But is this far enough?_ She chewed her bottom lip, nervously tracing more roundabout paths. They might take longer, but her destination would be less clear. It was only a matter of time before he sent someone after her. He wants to break her, give her freedom then snatch it back. And she longs to show him what a mistake that was.

One path took her a little too close to Mandalore. She stopped her darker thoughts, considering the Mandalorian she met today. He didn’t turn her in, didn’t ask any questions, didn’t shoot her, just told her to go. Maybe not the most charming encounter, but he truly did appear kinder than the rumors of his kind led her to believe. Not to mention the little green creature with him! One smile and he melted her heart to mush.

She found herself wishing she could have heard him speak a little more in that smooth, dark toned voice. It was the kind of sound that encompassed you, held you…drowned you. The contrast between him and his companion was jarring in the best of ways. The Mandalorian was serious and stern and the little one was so full of life. She could still hear that precious little giggle.

She froze, listening more closely. _She could still hear that precious little giggle._

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :D   
> Some notes! Yavin 4 (habitable) is a moon of Yavin Prime (uninhabitable). It's in the New Territories and has minor settlements. Think it's similar to Sorgan (the krill planet) but a touch more tropical. It's affiliated with the Alliance and is actually where Poe Dameron is from. Next, I did some research into the workings of tracking fobs and hyperdrive lanes, but they tend to vary from writer to writer. If anything is unclear, let me know and I'll answer!!! (we will get into those a bit later though ;) )


	4. Lost and found

~Din~

Din hushed the child, tucked away in his pod. The tracking fob was flashing intermittently, a slow pulse. Whoever she was, she’s close.

He scans the uneven rows of cargo, piles of boxes marked and addressed in various languages. A few flickering streetlamps bathed them in a dim light, long shadows cast from collections that towered over his head. Interrupting the quiet of the night, some rattled as he came close, low growls and hisses. The living occupants of the cages made it difficult to identify any distinctly humanoid thermal signatures.

He saw a few claws scraping through the odd perforation in the wooden walls encaging them. In a surge of what might have been paternal anxiety, he turned to close the child’s pod with a metallic _hiss_.

The Mandalorian drew his blaster, scanning the contents of each storage container for signs of life. Each methodical step forward increased the frequency of the tracker.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beepbeepbeepbeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep._

His head rose slowly to look upwards. _Found you_.

~Yona~

A quick _thud_ to her left startled Yona from her panicked silence. She felt the cool metal of a blaster against her temple.

“Get up,” came the modulated voice she had just been admiring. Now, all it evoked was dread.

She gave a slow nod, letting the map slither out of her lap as she stood. A gloved hand pulled her hood down and turned her head to face him. If the Mandalorian was surprised, disgusted, triumphant; she had no way of knowing. She wanted to fight, truly. She wanted to struggle and scream and break away from the disappointment she projected on that cold, visor-ed stare. But she couldn’t escape him. She knew that. At least…not yet.

She gave him the most conciliatory smile she could muster, “Hi again.”

He didn’t speak, didn’t lower the blaster or his gaze. After a few moments of silent contemplation of her reflection on his helmet, he grabbed her arm and made to escort her from her perch on top of the cargo boxes back to the ground. She complied, clambering down ungracefully into the dirt. He landed next to her, carrying her bag in his other hand.

He watched her for a minute, head tilted expectantly.

  
“What?” Yona wiped some of the grime off her face self-consciously.

“I thought you’d run.” He sounded contemplative. She imagined herself running ten feet before getting grappled.

“You’re a fucking Mandalorian, how would running help me?”

He shrugs, but grabbed her wrist with less harshness than she expected. He led her back to the gate of the cargo yard where a familiar, floating orb was parked.

“…do you usually bring him with you on a job?” Yona’s question makes him pause, almost sheepishly.

As if on cue there’s a little scrabbling noise inside the pod. He presses the button on the front, revealing his companion. She smiles when he gives her a wave, mimicking how she left them earlier. He stands, trying to escape his confines.

“ _No._ ” The Mandalorian says to him firmly. The child plops back down with a sniffle.

The walk back to the _Razor Crest_ is silent, punctuated only by the crunching of her steps on the sand. Unexpectedly, the Mandalorian’s gait is quiet, a gentle whisper across the terrain. In comparison, Yona felt as though her steps echoed in the darkness, calling the attention of various bounty hunters leaned up against buildings. None approached when they saw her companion, regarding him with an air of wary distrust.

Soon enough, the _Crest_ came back into view. The Mandalorian pressed a button on his vambrace, opening the back entrance of the ship. As the three of them reached the ramp, he let go of Yona’s wrist. She racked her brain, trying to calculate the trip ahead. Coruscant was four days of nonstop travel and the rickety old _Crest_ didn’t appear to be able to make more than one or two consecutive jumps at a time. Maintenance was done today, so he probably had fuel to spare. She took a glance at him to see his visor trained on her fidgeting hands.

“If you try to run now, I’ll have to stun you,” he said flatly, “If you try anything on this ship, I’ll have to put you in the freezer. Now, Yona, right? I was told to bring you in ‘good condition’ but if you threaten the safety of the child or myself, I won’t hesitate.”

Yona took a page out of his book and sighed tiredly before entering the hull.

~Din~

As soon as he met those eyes again, Din knew he was fucked. He nearly dropped dead when he noticed the way they reflected starlight. What a ridiculous way to go, not even at the _hand_ of a woman, but by her eyes.

It was odd that she seemed so resigned to being captured. She could have run or made things difficult for him…but she didn’t. Din was glad in a way; he didn’t want to have to hurt her. He shook that thought out of his head. Correction: his instructions were not to hurt her. He settled into the cockpit, his captive in the copilot’s chair. The child sat in his lap, chewing on something.

  
“Spit that out,” Din held out a gloved hand without even looking away from the controls. The child whined, displeased, but did so. As the Mandalorian twisted the silver ball back onto the lever he could have sworn he heard a stifled laugh from his quarry.

He set a path in the direction of Coruscant once he left Nevarro’s atmosphere, preparing for the first jump. He looked over the coordinates once more before reaching across Yona to fasten her seatbelt. Her face flushed and she looked at him with some emotion close to disbelief and thanked him.

“Going into hyperdrive.” He warned. The ship made a quiet humming noise, the stars outside lengthening into streaks of light. Once they were on a steady course, he turned to Yona, who had been very quiet.

“Travel to Coruscant will take four days. I’ll stop on day two for food for the kid.”

Yona nodded, thoughts elsewhere. Din shifted imperceptibly. He wasn’t used to talking this much.

“Where’s the refresher?” Her voice was soft.

“Down the ladder and to your left,” He kept his gaze straight, not taking the chance of meeting those eyes again.

She rose, and quietly padded down the ladder. Din listened for anything out of the ordinary, she was compliant so far, but that could change. No shuffling search or clanks of a makeshift weapon. He heard a muffled sob. Somehow, that was far worse. The child tried to wriggle out of his arms to follow her, but Din held his foundling close.

He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, tinted visor helping against the glare of the stars. In true bounty hunter fashion, he focused on pushing away the guilt he felt, instead attempting to come up with a safe stop before Coruscant. Somewhere the kid could get some air. Somewhere with grass would be perfect.

Without realizing, he slipped into a dream of his kid chasing frogs and laughing.

~Yona~

Yona splashed her face in the basin a few times before leaving the refresher. She must have been in there for half an hour; it was a wonder the Mandalorian didn’t come drag her out. Her eyes were red, but she was functioning, and her breathing was under control. This is her reality now and she will not let it rule over her. She dutifully returned to the cockpit.

As her head reached the top of the ladder, she felt a little hand catch a lock of her hair. She turned, face to face with her only ally on this ship. Perhaps her only ally in the galaxy, she reflected somberly. She looked at the Mandalorian, who remained still, seemingly unperturbed by the child’s actions. Without another thought, Yona hoisted herself up the rest of the way, sitting on the floor with the little guy.

“I don’t think I got to introduce myself to you last time. I’m Yona, would you like to be friends?” She asked in a soft tone. A small sound came from the pilot’s chair that sounded suspiciously like a snore. Yona blinked a few times, head tilted.

“Hey, Mando,” she whispered. _Nothing_. Despite the grim future ahead of her, she grinned for the first time in several days.

The child cooed, stepping closer before plopping onto the ground with her. He regarded her with those big, dark eyes that swam with intelligence, as if prompting her to pay attention to him.

“Do you like it here?” She reached out to gently feel one of his ears. He gave a delightful little laugh.

“I see,” she smiled with him, “What about your dad, hm? Does he take good care of you?”

Then, the child did something peculiar. He started making grabby hands at her. Yona complied, picking him up under his armpits. He reached out and touched the side of her face.

A tidal wave of sensations and snippets of memory come to the forefront of Yona’s mind. But…they aren’t hers.

_A large mudhorn charges the Mandalorian. He carries only a vibroblade and is hunched in pain. He’s bleeding and he’s barely conscious. The mudhorn tramples closer and closer, faster and faster toward him. Then, it stops. But it doesn’t stop charging, it just charges in place for a moment. It begins to thrash in place, angered. The Mandalorian looks at me and nods. I’m so relieved. He’s okay! He’s okay…tired…tired…_

Yona gasps and the Mandalorian jerks up straight, helmet whipping around. He finally sees her, sitting on the floor and holding his kid.

“How did you get—” He stops mid-sentence, realizing with asking, “Put him down.”

“Would you believe me if I told you he asked me to?” Yona still complied, setting the child down. The Mandalorian grunted noncommittally.

“…Did you have a nice nap?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! Notes on interstellar travel. Travel to Coruscant from Nevarro could take less than 4 days. It gets a little a messy because the Razor Crest is an old gal. The older models can't sustain non-stop jumping/hyperdrive, and thus that's what's affecting our trio. 
> 
> Additionally, I have been trying to keep Yona's details relatively nondescript for the purpose of reader insert, but the next few chapters may deviate a little bit as we get into the nature of her "retrieval." I've also tried to keep Mando in my perception of him as a character, so he'll be pretty curt now but start talking more as the story progresses!


	5. A Mandalorian makes small talk, feat. a small child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank everyone SO much for the kudos and comments!! I swear, refreshing my archive page has never been so happy :) This is my first fanfic, so I really appreciate everything!!

~Yona~

Yona reflected on the strange influx of memories as she sat and played with the kid. They _must_ have been his memories. For one thing, she’d never seen a live mudhorn before. For another, the protective feeling that overcame her was foreign and powerful. The aftermath was confusing, giving her a phantom sensation of tiredness and exertion. Whatever had happened, she wasn’t sure she’d like to do it again.

Despite her newfound unease, spending time with the child and earning his little smiles was proving to be therapeutic beyond belief. After a couple rounds of peekaboo and a little funny dance session with lots of twirls (which made him adorably dizzy), his eyes began to droop closed. He determinedly climbed up into Yona’s lap before settling into a comfortable, well-deserved nap.

Her cheeks hurt from laughing at the little one, and she smiled, giving him a few soothing touches along his wrinkled forehead until his breathing leveled into a deep sleep. She looked up to see the Mandalorian watching the two of them. Her smile faded and she realized the position she was in.

“Sorry, I can move him if you like,” she whispered, motioning to put him in his bassinet.

“No! No, it’s fine,” the Mandalorian’s whispered answer comes a little too quickly, “I can never get him to sleep like that.”

Yona chuckled at the relief in his voice, “It just takes a bit of patience and practice. My little brother used to be the same.”

She spared a glance at the sleeping creature, his ears twitching in response to some phantom sound in his dream. 

“…How old is your brother?” Yona looked at him again, surprised. _Is he…making small talk?_

“Well, he passed away when he was young,” she reminisced, “A little older than this one.”

“Oh…s-sorry,” A stutter? If she didn’t know better, she would think the Mandalorian sounded embarrassed.

“No, no it’s alright!” Yona interjected, “It was a long time ago and I enjoy all my memories with him. Talking about those who have gone keep them close to us. It’s painful at first, but now I find it…comforting.”

_“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la…”_ There’s a streak of raw emotion in his voice, though the modulator made it almost impossible to identify.

“What was that?” Yona cocks her head in confusion.

“Nothing, just something similar to what you were saying,” The Mandalorian’s voice is soft as he turns back to the controls, “I’m…sorry about your brother. He must have been happy to have a sister like you.”

Although presented offhandedly, there was sentiment in his tone. Yona was rapidly getting the feeling that the bounty hunter really was warmhearted. His words were sparse but genuine, his actions quietly caring. Perhaps, in different circumstances, they could have been friends. She smiled sadly to herself. _I would have enjoyed getting to know him._

The crackle in his modulator signified him clearing his throat, “There’s a cot downstairs if you want to rest.”

“I think I’ll do that,” Yona replied gratefully, scooping up the still sleeping child and turning to put him in his little pod.

“Wait,” she stopped, turning her head back to address his request.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe the child should…stay with you,” the Mandalorian seemed to be stumbling over his words today.

“Are you sure? I’m still a stranger,” she teased lightly.

He seemed to consider that before adding, “Call it a hunch, but I get the feeling he likes you a great deal.”

“Awww, my little admirer,” Yona gives the kid a little squeeze for emphasis, evoking a small snore from him, “We’ll get in a lot of cuddle time, you and me.”

~Din~

After a few hours of fitful sleep, Din stood and stretched. He looked at the spot on the floor where his foundling and his quarry had been playing and sighed. The kid really did like her. And she seemed to like him.

Every time she laughed, he had felt his own lips curl into a slight smile under his helmet. The sound was dangerously soothing to his frayed nerves, tense after countless weeks of running with the kid. She felt…safe. Safe was a simple word; four letters, one syllable. But to Din, it was less a word and more of an unachievable state of being in his line of work. Moments of safety were fleeting and untrustworthy.

As a bounty hunter, he knew that being safe was always temporary. There would always be the need to run from (or after) someone. Getting lured into a false sense of security could be fatal.

As a Mandalorian, Din knew that safety and The Way were incompatible. Every person he grew close to would want to remove his helmet, to see his face. A friend would want to look him in the eyes. A lover would want to run their fingers through his hair, see his smile, kiss him. Safety inspires trust, and trust inspires love. Love inspires foolishness.

The Mandalorian kicked himself, returning to reality.

Din descended the ladder as stealthily as possible, meaning to grab his kit for maintaining his armor while Yona slept. He peeked at the cot, Yona was curled protectively around the child, who was still snoring softly. Her hair was haloed around her head, expression utterly relaxed. For now, she was far from here; far from the fate that lay on Coruscant.

Din wanted to move closer, to observe her, to _know_ her. Why did she run? What was he bringing her back into? Was the client someone that loved her?

He hoped so. He didn’t know if he could bear the thought of leaving her to rot on Coruscant with someone cruel. But he had to. Bounty hunting rule number one, the less you know, the better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's ya girl. Ok, so the Mando'a phrase is: Not gone, simply marching far away. It's a really sweet notion in reference to the departed.


	6. Sweet dreams *aren't* made of these

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya!! Some sad stuff in this chapter. See end notes for a little more of a warning!

~Yona~

Everything was dark. An inky, creeping blackness that smothered her. It was the coldness of space without the stars, the endless void of nothingness that engulfed her with dread. It was primal, the fear and panic inspired by the unknown, the unseen. She was on her back, a platform beneath her with no determinable texture or firmness. It was a sleepy, twilight state, threatening to absorb her fully. It was then she realized…she couldn’t move. Her eyes wouldn’t shut, she couldn’t so much as wiggle her fingertips. The anxiety came in growing waves. Her thoughts ran into each other, stumbling blindly. She wasn’t safe. Something’s wrong. Someone’s here, they’re watching her. Her breaths came in shallow, painful gasps.

Then, the whispers started. At first faceless and unfamiliar before growing louder and bolder. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she began to sob. She felt a phantom embrace of her body,

_“I have you, sparrow. No need to run.”_

Her skin prickled, her very being crawling up her throat and out of her in a scream.

The dark was gone, but she still thrashed against her binds. She needed to get away, far away from here. An iron grip kept her from flailing.

“ _Stop,_ ” came a voice. It sounded worried.

And…she stopped, meeting the visor of the Mandalorian. Her face felt wet with tears, the trembling of her muscles out of her control. She was still stiff in his grasp, but it wasn’t the same endlessness of the confines within her dream. His grip on her arms was grounding. She realized could she breathe again.

“Oh…” she croaked, rapidly becoming aware of her surroundings.

“Are you…good?” The Mandalorian looked uneasy, reluctant to let go of her.

It was then, she realized, that some parts of his armor were missing. The pauldron with his insignia remained, but the other, along with his shin guards and vambraces were nowhere to be seen. She saw the curve of formed muscle in his forearms and bicep, peeked at the well-defined calf muscles. Blood rushed to her face. She’d seen a man’s arms before, why the hell was she so flustered by it?

“Can I let go of you now?” The Mandalorian looked uncomfortable under her stare, bringing her back to reality.

“Yes! Sorry,” she pulled her arms from his grasp sheepishly. She sat up cross-legged, running her fingers through her hair. _He probably thinks I’m crazy._

He seemed to watch her hands glide through a few tangles, “Are you…alright? I heard a yelp, thought it was the kid.”

“Yes, I’m fine, just a…bad dream,” Yona frowned to herself, eager to shake it off.

“Do…you want to…t-talk about it?”

~Din~

Din cursed the stutter in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. The words had practically spoken themselves. He noted Yona’s surprise at his query, but she seemed to avoid his gaze.

“No, thank you though. It was a silly little fear of the dark,” she suddenly seemed very interested in her hands.

“Ah,” Din replied lamely.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Din’s mind raced, still fixed on the pure horror in her eyes as she woke. He was no stranger to nightmares, but the way she fought him, unseeing and afraid, the heart-wrenching cries he heard from the cockpit, it all tugged uncomfortably at his heart. Whatever it was she was running from, it obviously weighed on her heavily. _And_ , the Mandalorian realized grimly, _I’m the one bringing her back to it._

He debates ways to try and be comforting. Should he leave her alone? Maybe she wanted to process it? He was at an impasse, she wouldn’t talk about it, but he somehow got the distinct feeling that she’d go back to crying if he left her. He spotted the child, sleepily rubbing his eyes and standing by his feet. He picked him up wordlessly before gently placing him next to Yona. She startled slightly, and guilt prickled in his stomach. He waited with bated breath. The child waddled over to her with a delighted coo before sitting next to her. Din’s worries melted away when he saw the small smile return to her face, the worried lines of her face fading slightly.

“There’s food over there,” he gestures to the supply crates, “if you wouldn’t mind, I’m sure the child is hungry.”

“Sure,” she nods, “what does he eat.”

Din paused for a moment, settling on: “A lot.”

He almost died on the spot when he heard her laugh quietly. It was a beautiful, lilting thing that seemed to echo in the dark hull of the _Crest_. It was a weight off his shoulders, a sound so devastatingly human and real.

~Yona~

Aside from the initial shock of finding _whole, dehydrated frogs_ among the Mandalorian’s supplies, feeding the child was pretty simple. Strange, but simple.

Yona chewed on what appeared to be some dehydrated fruit bars while she engaged with the child. He would babble at her and make a few gestures, to which she would nod contemplatively and agree. He appeared pleased with her stance on the issue.

After finishing her food, she determined that she shouldn’t hide from the Mandalorian. Despite her mortification at being seen in such a disheveled and panicked state, she realized that it ultimately didn’t matter. He’s here to escort her to Coruscant…she notes dully the pain that thought brings her.

She beckons to the child before scooping him up and tapping the ladder with her foot. She waits a moment before ascending.

“What was that?” The Mandalorian turned his head in her direction and asked, "...did you trip on something?"

Yona flushed, “O-oh, well you don’t really have doors on this ship, and it’d be rude to walk in on you unannounced,” she gestures at his beskar helmet.

The Mandalorian stiffens.

“Sorry, I won’t do it if it bothers you,” she stuttered.

“No, no I’m just curious. I don’t…get that very often,” he sounds surprised, “Often the opposite, actually, many have tried to sneak in and catch me off guard.”

“Sounds like you keep pretty shit companions,” Yona looks down at the kid in her arms, “Present company excluded.”

“Agreed,” he replies, though he doesn’t look immediately at the child. Yona flushes at the (probably) unintentional meaning.

The idea that he enjoyed having her around filled her with a small measure of joy. Her happiness is short-lived as she sees the blinking lights of the controls. She tried to resist retreating back down the ladder.

“Can I ask…how far are we?” she questions, her voice lowering a bit.

“Three days, will be stopping in about 24 hours.” His voice is gruff, turning back to the controls.

Yona puts the child in his pod before sitting in the copilot’s chair, pulling her legs up close to herself. They sit in silence for a few moments before the Mandalorian swiveled his chair to face her fully.

“Why did you run?”

There it is, the question she’s been dreading. She looked at him, despondent in the wake of all the pain returning. He probably heard the other side of the story. Does it even matter what she says?

“A lot of little reasons, and one big reason,” she simplifies, “the big one will pay you handsomely, I’m sure.”

Yona looked up at the stars, trying to focus on filling her lungs with air. They were between jumps, that was likely why Mando was at the controls. This was when the ship was most vulnerable. 

“Why Yavin-4?” his next question surprised her. He’s been nothing _but_ surprising today.

“Why do you care?”

The Mandalorian just shrugs, “It’s a bounty hunter’s job to know their target. Your map was well annotated; you wrote how far, how obscure, how hospitable. But it didn’t tell me why.”

Yona fights to get the words out, “Someone I knew lived there. One of the only people that understood why I couldn’t stay on Coruscant. Many people knew, but only she actually _understood_ ,” she looked at the Mandalorian, hoping he believed her, “she understood that I won’t survive.”

Her words surrounded the two of them for a few painstaking seconds. When he speaks again, he sounded subdued.

“The client is going to kill you?”

Yona shakes her head, and even with his face hidden by his helmet she can sense his confusion. She sighs.

“Mando, have you ever been in love?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, I want to just let everyone know that there's some mentions of past relationships and verbal/emotional abuse coming up. I'm still keeping things relatively vague, and will include more detailed warnings when necessary! Thanks again for all the support :)


	7. Caged Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this is ALL Yona's perspective and past. It's written with a number of time skips, for the sake of brevity, but the events span over about a year and a half. There's emotional abuse in this one. I tried to keep things non-graphic, but if you're sensitive to that, I'll include a summary in the end notes, so don't stress yourself <3 
> 
> Some context: Coruscant is an "ecumenopolis" which is Star Wars lingo for the whole planet is covered in city. The population is a trillion, so it's VERY populated. The only fauna canonically native to Coruscant is...a slug. Humans are also native, but many other sentient species migrated there. A few things I added in from my brain that I thought made sense: there's hella air pollution on this planet and greenhouses can be a thing, they're just hard to maintain. 
> 
> Final thing, I covered all the points I needed to cover in this, but it feels a little clunky; I'm hoping to weave together some further flashbacks and recounting. Bottom line, don't be surprised if I end up rewriting some of the chapter in the future!

_~ a few years prior~_

_“Yona!” she turns around in response. There he stood; a few wildflowers loosely held in a makeshift bouquet by a thin piece of twine._

_“How pretty! Where did you find these?” She examined the flowers in awe, “What planet are they from?”_

_“My mother keeps a little greenhouse with flowers from her home. Dad’s been complaining that she spends too much time there and told me to take as much as I wanted.”_

_“Thank you for bringing them for me, Vero…Are you sure your mother won’t mind?”_

_“Of course not! It’s dad’s greenhouse anyway. What’s hers is his.”_

_~_

_Yona turned another page, sitting in the bay window over-looking the busy street. It was a rare day when the sun permeated the smog and gave her some natural light. Two of Coruscant’s four moons were visible today, the other two remaining hidden. She took advantage of the light and had settled down with a book on various avian species from off-world. Despite the overwhelming population of humanoid species on her planet, animals were few and far between. Vero’s mother was kind enough to bookmark a few pages of species that appeared on her home world, one of the Yavin moons._

_A light_ dink _against the glass startled her from her reading. She looked out the window to see Vero getting ready to throw another pebble. She grinned, rolling her eyes at him. He motioned for her to come down. Reluctantly, she tucked the book under her arm and descended the stairs._

_Her parents were wealthy enough to obtain housing on the surface, not on the inner levels, but the townhouse was a skinny, three-floored space deemed enough for the three of them. When Marco was born, they had planned to find somewhere larger…An invisible hand squeezed her heart._

_As she opened the door, she came face-to-face with Vero, leaning against the door frame._

_“Hello, beautiful,” He flashed her a dazzling smile._

_“Hey, handsome,” she returned shyly._

_“What were you reading? Still avians? It sounds awfully boring, why don’t you join me for a stroll?”_

_“No, it really is interesting, Vero!” she pulled out the book to show him, “I wish I could see them someday…”_

_“What’s that on the front?” He nods his head toward the small species that was integrated in the red and brown colors of the cover._

_“Uh,” Yona flipped the book open, searching, “Sparrow, it’s a sparrow.”_

_“It looks pretty plain to me,” he leans over to examine the page with her._

_“No, I think it’s charming in its own way. Besides, it’s supposed to be so small and delicate, isn't it amazing how something like that can survive in the wild?” Yona was almost pulled back into her excited reading._

_“Okay, okay,” Vero raises his hands placatingly, “You know what? You handle the birds, I’ll handle…” he gives her a mischievous look before pulling out a book of his own._

_She squints at the dark cover, “A Comprehensive History of the First Order; now_ that _sounds boring.”_

_He shrugs, “Well, I was going to ask you to come read with me, but I guess I’ll just…”_

_“No! Okay let’s go.”_

_“That’s my girl.”_

_~_

_Vero had been gone for 7 months now. She could handle it, she was used to being apart from her parents, and this felt no different. Business was business, and he’d come back to her soon. He wrote letters often to ‘ease her aching heart,’ the goofball. She sighed, looking out the window at the sky. He was probably enjoying learning the ropes with his father, he’d been hoping for this chance for a long time. She never learned what exactly his dad did, and he never included a lot of details in his letters, only that he was excited to take up the challenge. In the latest, he included “_ I’ll be home with you soon. I can’t bear to not have you within my sight, but once I’m back, I’m _never_ letting you go again.”

~

_She heard the door open and shut downstairs. Assuming it was her father, she remained seated, engrossed in a cheap action novel she’d bought the other day to keep herself occupied. Her friends had recommended it, and she was starting to see the appeal._

_“What a warm welcome,” drawled a familiar voice._

_Her head snapped up, the smile spreading across her face before she saw him, “Vero?”_

_There he stood, arms out and waiting for her. Something cold traveled down her spine, but she ignored it, flinging herself into his arms, “I missed you so much!”_

_They broke from the hug and he held her at arm’s length to take a look at her, a small smile on his face. She felt the chill again when she noticed his eyes. He was looking at her differently than before. Before, she saw devotion…now she didn’t recognize the emotion._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_He pulled her back in, squeezing her tighter and placing a kiss on top of her head, “Nothing, nothing, darling. Just making sure you’re real.”_

_She sank back into his touch, relieved to see him again, “Will you join us for dinner tonight?”_

_“How could I say no?”_

_~_

_He’d charmed all of them that evening, bringing Yona a “surprise.” He took her aside, letting her ponder the strange, covered dome that he’d set on her desk in her room. With a flourish, he pulled the fabric off, revealing a dark, wrought-iron cage embellished with golden flowers along the base. Inside was a creature she took a moment to identify._

_“H-How? You remembered?” Yona crouched to be at eye-level with the sparrow. It regarded her slightly curiously, opening and closing its beak in a peculiar way._

_He wrapped his arms around her, joining in her wonder, “How could I forget? Now you can admire it whenever you want.”_

_Yona smiled as the sparrow flapped its wings, “Don’t you think it’ll be lonely here? It’s…a shame, don’t you think it would rather be out with its kind?”_

_“No, my dear, beautiful things are meant to be enjoyed to the fullest and protected the fiercest,” He squeezed her hand once._

_~_

_“Darling, won’t you stay the night with me?” Vero piped up while they were on a stroll._

_“Oh, no I couldn’t. My parents-“ Yona blushes lightly._

_“-Said they’d be fine with it, I asked them earlier,” Vero smiled._

_“Oh...well I have to get back to Tiki, he somehow managed to hurt his wing,” Yona worried, "Maybe another time? Once I don't need to keep such a close eye on him."_

_Vero remained smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They remained steeped in that nameless, roiling emotion that she couldn't yet place._

_~  
Yona sobbed, fingers tracing the empty cage in front of her._

_“Shhh. It’s okay, I’m here, my love.” Vero shushed, pressing a kiss to her temple._

_“W-why?”_

_“I just got a little mad at him, that’s all! It was an accident. It’s alright, we can get you another one someday,” He coos._

_“But—”_

_“Yona,” Vero chided, brushing the tears from her cheeks, “What’s yours, is mine. That’s what love is, right?”_

_Yona’s mind was rife with struggle. Pain, sorrow, guilt. The parts that loved him and those that screamed at how horrible this was were in bitter conflict with one another. His attention was stifling, trying to maintain a constant monopoly on her time._

_“My parents have lived a happy life together with that in mind. I can give you the stars but know that they are mine to take away._ You _are mine to take away. You understand that, right?” His tone is soothing but every word squeezed the air from her lungs until she was left in heaving gasps._

_“It’ll be okay, sparrow,” Yona’s tears renewed at the nickname._

_~_

_Yona stared blankly out of her bedroom window. It had been a few months since Vero had her things moved to his home. He had the new room furnished and came to personally help her pick her clothing for the day. It had become a ritual for him, a reminder that she was his. He was called away for the day on business, the first time since she’d arrived. He’d gifted her with a beautiful golden anklet, ‘as an apology for leaving you lonely today.’_

_She missed her friends, her free time to explore. She had often dreamed about traveling off planet before, but each day in this house doused her dwindling hopes. It was an unspoken rule that she couldn’t leave the gate without him, he'd made that much clear to her when he moved her in. But he was gone today. He couldn't expect her to stay in her room, to spend her existence waiting for him to come back and put her life on hold. Surely…she could try to go see a friend, just once?_

_As she stepped past the gate of her new home, she felt a prickling shock around her ankle._

_“Ow ow ow,” she backed up. The pain stopped._

_Looking down at her leg. Nothing but her shoes, socks, and the delicate gold-chain anklet. She experimentally poked her left leg out the gate. Nothing. She repeated the process with her right._

_“Ow! What the fuck?!” The charge was stronger this time. She tugged on the anklet, confused. There was no clasp, no latch to undo. Frantic, she pulled, hoping for some weakness in the metal. She couldn’t take it off._

_“Yona,” she whipped around, an apology on her lips to see Vero’s mother, a sad expression on her face, “Please, join me for tea today.”_

_Without another word she walked into the house, expecting her to follow._

_~_

_Yona sat with her at the table, teacup untouched in front of her. Vero’s mother, Brea, took a slow draft from hers. She was a soft-spoken woman, virtually invisible around the house. Since she arrived, they had maybe spoken twice unsupervised._

_“Madam, what did you need me for?” Yona was still distressed, unsettled by her experience at the gate. She itched to try and break the anklet off of her._

_“Are you happy here?” Brea looks into her eyes._

_Yona hesitated, “Your son is very generous to me.”_

_“I thought his father was too,” her tone is flat, and she refused to break eye contact, “But are you happy?”_

_“I…don’t know. I love him. He loves me. Things changed when he started to work with his father, but he said he’ll work on it,” Yona tries to answer truthfully. She winces at the uncertainty in her voice._

_“My dear,” Brea sighed, “Vero plans to marry you by the end of the week.”_

_Yona froze. She knew it was coming. Such a prospect should fill her with joy, elation. They would be together. When did that thought begin to inspire fear instead of happiness? When did she grow afraid of him?_

_“Ah, I see,” she attempted a wobbly smile._

_“Don’t, child,” Brea reached for her hand, “Don't. I want you to run.”_

_~_

_Night fell before Vero returned. Brea, her husband, and the household staff that his family employed had all retired for the evening. Yona startled when the door opened and he strode to her, brilliant smile across his face._

_“I’m home, my beautiful girl,” Vero pulled her in, kissing each cheek._

_“Good day?” Yona asked cheerily, raising her hand to cup his face._

_He leaned into her touch, “Yes, but I’m terribly glad to be back with you. It drives me crazy not being near you. I’d tear apart the galaxy to return to your side.”_

_He tilts his head to look past her, “You made tea?”_

_“I wanted you to relax when you got home,” she looked down shyly._

_“Oh, sparrow. What would I do without you?” He strode to the table, poised to pick up a cup. Her eye twitched as she suppressed a wince._

_“Ah, other one. I put honey in mine, and I know you don’t like sweet things.”_

_“Well, that’s not completely true, I like you, don’t I?” he gives her a wolfish grin, but picks the right teacup._

_Yona sat to his right, nibbling on one of the tea cookies she brought in. She checked the clock on the wall. 11:01. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Vero quickly downing his tea and tearing into the scones she baked._

_“Why did the anklet you gave me shock me when I stepped outside?” Yona tried to ask casually._

_Vero cocked his head at her, “Why would you leave?”_

_“Just to see a friend. But I couldn’t pass through the gate,” She replied evenly._

_“It’s for your safety. There’s been a rise in human trafficking in the sector recently, and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”_

_“The shock hurt me though,” Yona countered._

_“Oh, please. It was a little buzz. Are you really going to say that’s worse than being kidnapped?” Vero looked at her incredulously._

_“That’s not what I said at all, Vero,” Yona shook her head. She could feel his mood shifting, willed herself to remain calm._ This is not my fault. 

_“Is it wrong for me to want to protect you?” His posture straightened, anger lacing his tone._

_“I can protect myself; and more importantly, you didn’t tell me you put a fucking dog collar around my ankle,” Yona bristled, checking the clock again. 11:04._

_“I didn’t think you’d need to leave,” his eyes narrowed, “What more could you want? You have everything here.”_

_Yona stood, tears in her eyes, “Vero, I’m sorry._ _”_

_"What for?" Vero stood with her, "What did you-"_

_His eyes drooped and he crumpled to the ground, his muscles twitching slightly. Leaving him there and not checking on him was the most difficult thing she'd done. She repeated her plan to herself, taking a few breaths. S_ _he walked briskly around the corner into the kitchen where she had hidden her bag. Only necessities, a few credits gifted to her by Brea, the rest from her savings. Brea had pressed a map into her hands, circling a few planets that would be safe. She heard a strangled grunt_ _from the other room and checked the clock, 11:05. He’s out now. Brea said the tincture would take 5 minutes to knock him out fully. It’s now or never._

_She checked the room once more time, seeing his form slumped on the carpet. She grabs a blanket from the plush couch in the living room, placing it over her sleeping shoulders. She tried not to look at him, failing miserably when she spotted the ring box peeking out of his jacket pocket. Tears rushed to her eyes, and she tried to push away the guilt she felt. Channeling her apprehension, she knew she had to move quickly._

_She left through the back door, grabbing the bolt cutters from the work shed next to the greenhouse. She cut through the anklet, sending it jingling to the ground. She grabbed it, making her way out into the street. With a final glance back to her ‘home,’ she tossed it into the gutter, along with her broken heart._

_Her future was ahead of her. It began on Yavin-4._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy! Summary for those who need/want it. Vero and Yona are childhood friends. They fall in love when they get older (I kept ages vague for the purpose of reader insert). Vero's father runs a large company that operates both on and off world, but it's unclear to Yona what they actually do. Vero leaves for 7 months for some quality dad time to learn how to run the business. When he comes back, he's changed somehow. Yona is lost in the feeling of loving and being loved and starts to put up with really creepy, possessive behavior. She's been ensnared by him and fears she won't escape. Vero's mother, Brea, urges her to run from this place before it's too late and tells her to escape to Yavin-4, her home world. Yona slips a drug into Vero's tea, knocking him out long enough for her to escape. He's hellbent on bringing her back.


	8. A storm is best weathered in a blanket fort with someone you love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad time ahead!! Yona has a panic attack and Din takes care of her. 
> 
> Just to clarify: mental health isn't fixed in a night, or by someone. Mando is not going to fix her issues. He can support her, care for her, (and eventually love her), but progress and self growth is important. That being said, having someone to ground and take care of you is one of the nicest things in this galaxy and the next. That is the sentiment I wanted to write here, and I hope some may find it soothing :) (I know I did lol)

~Yona~

“Mando, have you ever been in love?”

“No.”

“Ah,” she paused, “It…might be hard to understand then.”

“Help me…understand?” his words were slow, questioning and unsure. She hesitates, gathering her thoughts. Barely 48 hours with this man, a trained killer, and she wants to tell him. She wants to tell someone, _anyone_ , to have someone hear her. To remind her it wasn’t her fault.

“Well…love is different for everyone. It can take any number of forms; affection, happiness, pride, jealousy, lust…control. Everyone experiences it differently-“

“So, wanting to kill you is how the client expresses love?” the Mandalorian scoffs incredulously.

“No! No, Vero doesn’t,” Yona sighed shakily, “he doesn’t want to kill me.”

“Then why wouldn’t you survive returning to Coruscant?”

“It’s hard to explain when you’re pushing me like this!” Yona’s voice raises for the first time since she’d met him. She was tired of running. Tired of trying to blend in and disappear.

She looks to him and she feels it boiling under her skin, eating at the marrow in her bones. A blazing fire of grief, anger, sorrow. The Mandalorian is silent, watching her.

“Vero wants to have me. He wants all of me, even the things I don’t want to give him. My freedom, my future, my ambitions…everything. I want to have friends? He gets upset that I want to leave him, tells me how dangerous the world is. I want to go off-planet? He brings me things to make me stay, reminds me how indebted I am to him. I want to _go outside_? He _traps me within his home,_ ” Her eyes water, pools of tears overflowing and falling down her face.

“I convinced myself I loved him through all of it. He’d change. I tried to forgive him, to negotiate. He’d bring me back into his arms with promises of warmth and kindness, all while snatching my life away from me while I wasn’t looking. It was _sickening._ I had become his, but was he mine? Did he even _love_ me? Did he know what he was doing, justifying it as a way to control me? To… _tame me?_ ” Yona’s voice caught on the last two words, on the verge of hysterics.

“So no, Mando, I _wouldn’t survive him,_ ” she looked him in the face, burning her gaze into his mind, willing it to travel through the beskar and reach him, “I would die, slowly and surely. It would not be quick or painless, and there would be no heaven to make it all worth it. Married to him, every part of myself that disobeyed him, that longed to be _free_ , would wither away and die in agony. My body may live, but the person sitting here before you will be dead before the end of the year. And _that_ would make him complete.”

~Din~

Din was speechless. He’d broken the rule and asked. He couldn’t help himself; it was like the situation with the kid all over again. When he’d brought him back to the Imperials, he knew it was wrong, that it was against his code, so he fixed it. But this was different. He was helpless, there was nothing for him to fight or shoot to make it right.

All he could do was watch as she fell apart. Sobs racked her body. She looked so _frail._ He hated it, and he knew she did too. He knew it was wrong, but for a moment, he wasn’t a bounty hunter, and she wasn’t a bounty. All he saw was a drowning soul, fighting to keep her head above the water, to keep breathing.

He slowly lifted his hands so she could see them, wordlessly extending them in a gesture to take her shaking ones. Her eyes flickered between his hands and his visor; he saw the fear trying to take hold. After a few moments of letting her consider it, he lowered his voice, like he would when trying to coax the child.

“Please?”

His voice seemed reassuring; he almost didn’t recognize it. How long had it been since he comforted someone? How long since someone had comforted _him_?

He channeled all the gentleness he thought he had lost over the years into that one word, a sound to hold on to among all of the emotion rolling through her. She slowly, cautiously put her hands in his. Din waited, unmoving, letting her take her time. Too much had been taken away from her; he feared any unexpected movement would send her reeling from him.

She laced their fingers together with a weak squeeze, still wheezing with heart-wrenching sobs. Her shoulders hunched, finally giving herself a moment to feel the pain. Din let her ride it out, not imposing more upon her, just offering his touch as an anchor. The storm would calm, all he could give her was his patience. He willed his thoughts to travel through her hands, up her arms, washing over her heart and mind. In this horrible, vulnerable moment she was not alone.

Her hands were so real. Even with his gloves on, even if this was just for her sake, he relished in the feeling of human contact. He closed his eyes a minute, filing this feeling away for the lonely days to come when she left him.

He waited until her shoulders ceased shaking, until her breathing lengthened and steadied. He waited until her eyes began to droop shut, having run out of tears to cry. He stood slowly, still holding one of her hands as he guided her to the ladder. He descended quickly, keeping a careful eye on her as she went down each rung, hands poised to catch her if she slipped.

He led her to the cot she’d been using, which she gratefully slumped into. Din brought her some water and quickly checked on the child to ensure he was settled. He heard her call to him from the hull.

“Please…come back,” she hiccupped softly.

His heart broke. He kneeled by her side, gently placing one of the few, threadbare blankets around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Din murmured, “Please, drink the rest of that.”

She gulped down the water before exhaling, the sound much smoother than before. He took the cup away, refilling it and placing it on the ground by the cot.

“You should sleep,” Din suggested quietly.

“Y-you’re one to talk,” she tried to joke.

“If I sleep for a bit, will you too?” he questioned.

“Yeah, I could do that,” she curled up, burrowing into the blanket he wrapped around her, “Mando, I’m sorry I—”

“No,” he shook his head, “none of that.”

Yona blinked back the tears that threatened to return full force, “Okay. Thank you.”

Din stood, walking over to turn off the lights. Once it was dark, he navigated to his own bedspace, leaving the hatch open in case he needed to check on her. He completed his ritual of removing each piece of beskar, reverently wrapping it in cloth and placing it by his bed. Soon only the helmet remained, and he settled into his space, stretching his back.

He heard Yona gave a few more sniffles across the room, before lapsing into deep, sleepy breaths. Din listened intently for a few more minutes, worried. _What if she wakes up alone?_ _Maybe…I should be closer to her, just in case._

He grabbed a couple of blankets and padded quietly over to the side of the temporary cot she’d been residing on, settling on the floor next to it. He fell into the deepest sleep he’d had in months.


	9. Wake up and smell the tube soup

~Yona~

Yona woke with a splitting headache and the need to pee. She sat up and stretched her limbs, still half-asleep. She swung her legs over, hearing a slight _oof._ She squints curiously in the dark to see the outline of six feet of Mandalorian on the ground next to her cot.

“Mando, why are you on the floor?”

“It’s…comfortable.” His voice is more raspy than usual as it filters through the vocoder.

Gradually, she became less disoriented, recalling the events of last…night? Space made it so difficult to tell.

“How long have I been out?” she asked.

  
An incessant beeping sounded from the cockpit, accompanied by several babbling noises. The Mandalorian paused before bolting up, “ _Haar’chak_!”

“Did…did you leave the baby in the cockpit?” Yona looked at him fearfully.

He scrambled to turn on the light before racing up the ladder. Yona heard a few more muttered curses. For the first time in a while, she tilted her head back and laughed. A deep, hearty laugh that warmed her stomach and hurt her face. When the Mandalorian returned, child in tow, she lapsed into stifled giggles, trying not to be rude. She was beginning to understand his body language, and she could read the embarrassment in his posture.

He placed the child on the ground, “ _Stay here. I mean it this time,”_ he paused, crouching to get on his level before whispering a few more things to him.

Yona realized he hadn’t donned his beskar yet and took a moment to take him in, the man under the metal. He wore simple clothes, a long-sleeved turtleneck and pants cut from a thick, coarse fabric. Practical and sturdy, but notably old. His shoulders were broad and muscular after years of bearing the weight of his armor. It was then she noticed that he’d removed his gloves during the night, revealing the first glimpse of skin she’d seen of him. It was lightly sun-kissed, despite spending so much time covered up. Never before had she felt so scandalized by seeing a man’s _hands._

She couldn’t see much from her vantage point, but she could envision the rough, calloused hands that so delicately handled the child. She recalled the way he’d held her hands in his own, imagined the warmth of his skin under her fingertips. Of how those fingers would gently wipe away her tears and smooth comfortingly over her cheek.

She shook herself. _Stop, stop that right now. Stars, I need a cold shower._

The Mandalorian straightened, returning to his full, towering height. _Did he always seem this tall?_

He turned to her, “I’m going to find us to somewhere to land, would you mind feeding him again?”

“Yeah! Sure! Will do, Mando,” she cringed at how high-pitched she sounded in comparison to his even, baritone voice.

He gives her a nod before returning to the cockpit. As if on cue, the child rushed to her with an excited coo. He lifted his arms to her, mouth open in a devastatingly cute smile. She lifted him into a hug, balancing him in one arm while she searched for some food for him. There were maybe two more frogs left, but…are frogs a breakfast food? She kept searching, finding some kind of tube labeled “soup.”

She grabbed a bowl (the only one the Mandalorian seemed to own) from the supply chest, experimentally emptying the tube into it. It wasn’t very appetizing, and it looked rather thick. The serving instructions seemed to recommend adding hot water. She left it on the table, depositing the kid next to it and walked to the base of the ladder.

“Mando? Do you have hot water on the ship?” she called up.

“Yeah, we do. Press the button to the right of the sink, it’ll take a few minutes, but it’ll start running warm,” came his reply. She quieted her thoughts, trying to ignore how he said ‘we.’

“Okay!” she turned back to the child, “See, buddy? We can make this wo—”

She froze abruptly, meeting eyes with the child who was licking the bowl, getting the strange soup paste all over his face. He stopped for a moment, blinking at her and tilting his head. 

~Din~

Din heard a loud “Ew! Stop!” from down in the hull and chuckled to himself. He told the child to try and make her laugh, but that might have done more harm than good. _Well, at least he’ll keep her busy._

The Mandalorian returned to his task. Things had changed now, he needs to ensure her safety for a couple of days, until they can find her somewhere to escape to. Yavin-4 was a good idea in theory, but Vero might be expecting that. He needs somewhere populated enough to make it easy to blend in, but not enough to be a hub. The core and inner rims were less ideal in their proximity to Coruscant, outer rim was still relatively disordered… somewhere in the mid-rim would be safest for her.

For now, he just needed to buy time. He pulled up his transmission software, sending a message to Karga. ‘ _Forward info to the client: Detour in progress, delayed delivery. Expected arrival: 96 hours GST.’_

The client wouldn’t be happy, but he couldn’t let him catch wind of the plan. Yona needed to disappear, to get somewhere safe. That was the priority, the details could come later. Today, he’d navigate to Kashyyyk; it was closest to them and despite its affiliation with the New Republic, it was well-connected. He’d be able to find plenty of food the kid could eat, recalling Omera’s advice on Sorgan about having a ‘well-balanced diet.’ _Kriff, I am going soft._

_~Yona~_

Yona had finally cleaned all the soup paste off of the kid when Mando returned to the two of them.   
  


“How do you take care of him alone?” she says, lovingly exasperated at the child’s antics.

“I…” he seems at a loss for words.

“Hm?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he finally sighs.

Yona giggles, “Well, you might want to learn at some point.”

“He’ll be reunited with his own kind, soon,” the Mandalorian says quietly, “I won’t be able to care for him forever.”

“Why not? Aren’t you his kind?” Yona cocks her head.

He looks at her, mimicking her posture, “…you think I’m green?”

Yona’s shoulders shook with laughter, and she imagined the smile undoubtably spread across his face, “If I didn’t know better, Mandalorian, I’d think you were making a joke.”

She could have sworn she heard a snicker sneak through the vocoder.

“All I meant was that you don’t have to be the same species to be his family,” Yona added.

The Mandalorian sits on one of the supply crates. He seems to think for a moment, “It’s a little more complicated than that. There are some things I can’t give him.”

Yona shrugged, “I suppose, but there are many things you _can_ give him. I never left my planet until around two weeks ago and this little one is maybe a quarter of my age and has seen half the galaxy!”

“…Actually he’s 50.”

“50 what?”

“He’s 50 years old.”

Yona’s jaw dropped. She spun to look at the kid, pointing a finger accusingly “You’re an old man?!”

The kid giggled, pointing back at her with a few babbles.

“I was told his species may live for centuries,” the Mandalorian explained, “He just appears to mature slower.”

“Huh,” she still eyed the kid suspiciously.

“He’s a lot to handle, but…the kid takes care of me too, in a way. I’ll miss him.”

Yona nods, looking at the little green goblin in front of her. He gives her a little wave, just like she did when she met him. It was hard to imagine him, grown up and living all on his own. She thought back to the strange influx of memories he’d given her, the clearness of his thoughts.

“I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to him,” Yona looked to the Mandalorian.

He offered no response, opting to sit and watch him wiggle around in his seat restlessly.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit more domestic (as domestic as you can be on a spaceship). Will be dealing with more plot soon, just you wait.  
> References!!!   
> Haar'chak is Mando'a for Damn it!   
> I based the tube soup loosely off of space food from NASA (it looks nasty, but practical)  
> GST is Galactic Space Time, the unit of measurement in space. It's the same as our hours.   
> Kashyyyk is the Wookie planet! I'm going to enjoy writing it :)


	10. A day in Kashyyyk

~Din~

After returning to the cockpit, the two of them settled in. The child was busy talking to himself, keeping the quiet atmosphere between comfortable.

Din finally piped up, “We’ll be in Kashyyyk airspace soon.”

“Oh,” Yona blinks at him, she looks afraid. The expression throbs painfully somewhere in his chest.

He remains quiet, unsure what to say. When she didn’t appear to be breaking the silence, he elaborated softly, “From there, we can find you somewhere to stay.”

Yona seems to process his words for a minute before realizing, “You’re…letting me go.”

The Mandalorian nods. She just stares at him for a moment. He scrambles for words, her hopeful eyes pinning him in place.

He clears his throat, a staticky sound through the vocoder, “I have a couple ideas in mind, safe planets that—”

He never finishes his sentence. In that moment, before even _she_ seemed aware of it, Yona gave the Mandalorian the first bear hug he’d had in a long, _long_ time. Unintentionally, he froze, hands hovering awkwardly over her waist. Din grapples with what to do, alarm bells going off and bouncing off the walls of his helmet. He closed his eyes and resting one hand on her lower back. Any more and he was sure he’d combust. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, head tucked in beside his. He felt her warmth, the gentleness that came after the initial shock of human contact.

She seemed to realize her mistake, pulling back with widening eyes and an apology already forming on her lips. He just reached out, squeezed her hand once, before returning to navigation.

“Prepare for landing,” he directs, a smile in his voice and across his face. 

~Yona~

Yona was convinced this was the best day of her life. Kashyyyk was a lush planet, covered in towering trees that supported whole _cities_. It was the complete opposite of Coruscant. While the humans had built and inserted themselves into every crevice of her home world, the Wookies of Kashyyyk built _with_ nature, yielding stunning results. She couldn’t pronounce the name of the city, but that didn’t detract from how enamored she was with it.

She couldn’t stop staring at everything around her, desperate to sear every detail into her memory. She was amazed to find that nature had its own distinct yet unplaceable smell. All words to describe it came up short. It was soil and growth, life itself. All the books she’d read couldn’t compare to the vibrant green of the leaves, the knotted branches enclosing the market the two of them were in. The tree it was settled in must have been thousands of years old, a wide, weathered trunk supporting the commerce of the city. The market was bustling, vendors peddling fresh berry pies and treats that would have been expensive imports to Coruscant.

She bumped into a Wookie, distracted by the canopy of leaves above her, “Oh, sorry!”

He barked something at her in Shyriiwook, but upon noticing her companion, his eyes narrowed, and he backed away.

“It…would be best to make this quick, they don’t really like me here,” the Mandalorian mutters lowly into her ear. He walks to the next merchant, their conversation mostly consisting of him pointing at items and nodding or shaking his head.

Yona insisted on carrying some of the haul, to which the Mandalorian begrudgingly agreed. It was unfair that he couldn’t enjoy the sights of the city, but he assured her he’d seen plenty of trees in his lifetime. They wandered a bit, gathering any loose ends. She paused at a fabric stand while he finished up with a scrap merchant, admiringly stroking some of the garments on display. 

  
“Are you ready?”

“Kriff, Mando!” she jumps at his sudden voice behind her. She saw a nearly imperceptible shaking of the shoulders, and she grinned at him. It was hard to imagine a restrained man like him full on laughing, but it made every sign of amusement so much more worth it. It did wonders for her self-confidence.

“Let’s go,” he takes the lead, snatching most of the items she’d been carrying. She stared after him, watched the way his cape swished against his calves. Calming her beating heart, she raced after him. They walked back to the ship in comfortable silence.

~Still Yona, back at the ship~

When the sun began to set, Mando left Yona with the child, telling her he had a quick lead to pursue.

“I’ll lock the door, don’t open it for anyone,” he warned, strapping his Amban rifle to his back. He hadn’t worn it earlier in the day to avoid any extra hostility but seeing it on him now solidified the image of a trained killer. Yona eyed the weapon and the implication it held; he was going somewhere dangerous.

“Okay,” she bit her lip. He gave her a nod and turned to the child.

“Go easy on her, womp rat,” his tone was stern, but the kid was utterly uncaring, reaching up to him with a smile.

“Stay safe,” Yona said softly, before she could stop herself. He gave her a nod. It was so hard to tell what he was thinking in that tin can of his.

And just like that, he was off, shutting the hatch behind him. It briefly struck her how he trusted her enough to leave her alone with his kid. The pride she felt was cut down by the realization that she couldn’t fly his ship, couldn’t run, and even if she _could_ he’d track her down in no time.

The child waddled after him, prompting her to scoop him up quickly.

“Sorry buddy, you’re stuck with me today,” she gave him a little squeeze.

She brought him up to the cockpit, settling in for the hours to come. They played together, something quick and fun to help the child work out his energy. He made her laugh more times than she could count. Somewhere along the line, she'd picked him up and settled in the chair with him, humming them both into a light sleep. 

She was in the middle of a dream, shadowy figures dashing through her memory. She heard a few voices, mostly unfamiliar.

_“Can I play with him?”_ a young girl’s voice. She feels warmth swell in her chest.

She hears Mando’s voice, unclear but pointed. He’s soothed by another unfamiliar voice.

“He’ll be fine.” She feels someone grab her hand and pull her out of the dark. It’s bright and beautiful, wherever they are. She sees light, trees, water. People weaving baskets, children racing around in groups.

Her eyes open. She’s back on the _Crest,_ the child curled up on her chest and snoring quietly. His ears twitch, a little smile on his face. She studies him for a minute, mulling over that strange snippet of a memory. It was just like before, with the mudhorn, but less urgent. It was a slow, happy feeling of belonging. The details blurred together, but the perspective was the same.

“You’re a strange little one, aren’t you,” she pats his head gently, looking around.

It was dark, and the Mandalorian wasn’t back yet. She became aware of a buzzing, staticky sound. It fluctuated in pitch, as if settling on the right frequency. A few clicking noises sounded from within the control board, before a blue figure appeared on the dashboard. _A transmission?_ Yona blinked her eyes sleepily, adjusting to the sudden light.

Her heart stopped, eyes widened in absolute _horror_ as she took in the dazzling grin of the predator that had stalked her through the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellllllo! Okay, I meant to update yesterday, but I had to rewrite the chapter a couple times, I just wasn't feeling it. Woke up this morning and am pleased to put this version out, I'm much happier with it. 
> 
> References: The Wookie planet of Kashyyyk is picturesque and the site of several battles in Star Wars lore. I wrote this with the capital in mind, the city Rwookrrokrro. I freeformed it a little, because it doesn't get super explored in the canon. It's held up by a tangle of really old wroshyr trees. Most Wookie cities are not on the ground because of natural predators and dangers. The planet does not speak Galactic Basic on a widespread level, but the capital is the most likely to have people to help you converse. Seeing as Mando and Yona (and our baby boy) do not speak Shyriiwook, this city was the best option. Also, Yona has never seen trees in the wild before, seeing as Coruscant is all city. It's a magical moment :) 
> 
> To elaborate on my Mando portrayal, it is NOT forbidden to touch people when you walk the Way of the Mandalore, but covered in armor like that with a reputation as a merciless killer? One can only imagine that touch is unfamiliar to Din, especially touch containing genuine feeling (thinking of Xi'an, there was no genuine feeling in that relationship eek). Also, I believe that Din follows The Way more closely than the Bounty Hunter's code, so his helping of Yona is more an avoidance of guilt and pain (or at least he tries to rationalize it that way winkwink) winning out over a job. These events are stationed before the timeline of season 2, but right after season 1. As such, Mando has not met Bo-Katan or the others on Corellia, but once we loop into there, I plan to start make him questioning his Way in a manner that involves a genuine want to feel connection, to belong. 
> 
> Anywho, explanation over :)


	11. Mando demands divine intervention

~Din~

The Mandalorian was trodding back to the ship when he heard the scream. His blood froze, sitting ice-cold and heavy in his veins. It was too close…Wookies didn’t scream like _that_. He tore through leaves and young branches in his way, rounding on the _Crest._ With an impatient press on his vambrace, the hatch opened slowly. He bounded up the ramp, into the maw of the ship and stopped, panting. Din listened for a struggle, unfamiliar voices, danger. Over the pounding of blood in his ears he heard sobs from the cockpit. He flew up the ladder, fearing the worst.

There she was, curled into a ball in the corner of the space, child held protectively to her chest. She was shaking like a leaf, recoiling as though slapped across the face. The child looked to him, giving a slight cry.

“…Yona? What is it? What’s wrong?” The adrenaline rushed out of him, replaced by concern.

Din stepped forward, crouching in front of her. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Gently, he reached out, hesitating slightly, to give her a moment to smack him away. When nothing happened, he closed the gap, tilting her head up to study her face. Her eyes were watery and dazed, but he saw the flicker of recognition as their gazes met. She kept looking at him, placing her hand on top of his gloved hand.

He could see her working through it, grounding herself. He sat back on his heels, giving her time to come back to the present…to him. Soon, she started to resurface, gasping breaths changing into shuddering sobs, then uneven sighs. Despite himself, he felt a degree of pride at her progress even from the other night, seeing her panic fade and gradually wash away with every breath.

“That’s it,” he offered, keeping his tone soft. The tears continued to spill, but the lucidity returned to her eyes. Her brows were furrowed, wincing with the effort to maintain her breaths.

“He’ll find me,” she finally managed to croak out, the Mandalorian tilted his head at that. She raised her other hand pointing at the controls.

He disentangled from her slowly, walking to the dashboard. A notification: one new transmission. His gloved hands clenched at his sides. Without another word, he returned to her side, offering a hand to help her up. When she stood before him, he lightly placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I need to watch it. Would you like to sit with me, or can I take you down to sleep?” He offered patiently, absentmindedly rubbing circles into her shoulder with his thumb.

Her eyes seemed to search his visor in a futile attempt to meet his eyeline; she settled on “…Sleep.”

With a nod, he let go of her, holding the child and having her descend first. The kid looked at him, black eyes still sleepily confused. Din just held him close before following Yona. “Thank you for being with her kid,” he muttered quietly.

She was sitting on her makeshift cot, picking vacantly at her clothes. The Mandalorian put the child in his little hammock above his own bed before moving to her. He sat next to her for a moment, the cot creaking under his weight. Yona sniffled a little laugh at that. Din sighed, half exasperated, half relieved to hear it.

She startled him, lifting a hand to trace the sigil on his pauldron. He felt tense, not feeling her touch, but still hyper aware of it.

“…Is this a…mudhorn?” she tilts her head.

  
Din nods, “It’s the sign of my clan.”

“Oh,” she seemed entranced by the metalwork, lapsing into silence.

The Mandalorian tried not to shift under her stare or fingers tracing over his shoulder. He looked over at her, noticing her eyes drooping. He moved her hand away, standing in order to let her lie down.

Pulling the blanket over herself, she finally said soberly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you took me back, you know?”

Din looked at her, shocked.

“It’s a lot of money,” she chuckled grimly to herself, “You’d have to be a fool not to take it. And if you don’t, someone else will get it instead. I’d prefer if you were the one who did it. At least I know you’d use the money well.”

“…Stop that,” he felt the sharpness in his tone, saw it make her wince.

She nodded weakly, closing her eyes “Good night, Mando.”

~ 

_“Greetings, Mandalorian! I hear you’ve run into a bit of a snag. As an incentive to make your original deadline, I’m willing to up the bounty to 75,000 credits. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to make the bounty public to the Guild. I’m a patient man, but I’m afraid the longer Yona’s away from me, the more deluded she becomes. Don’t be fooled though…that girl of mine is clever. Remember this: she’s lost and confused. Don’t take it too hard if she fights you, this really is for_ her _sake…”_

The blue figure goes to walk out of view, turning back with one last thought and that same, sickening smile on his lips.

_"Oh, and on the off chance you’ve secured her location, I’ll give you half the reward for her coordinates. My men can do the rest.”_

Din decisively bats the button to stop the message from replaying, muttering a curse in Mando’a and leaning back in his chair. He’s all too familiar with being chased, why was this any different? Granted, he naively thought they’d have more time, but he’d expected this eventually. Men like that don’t negotiate; they only accept complete control. He’d met plenty of them in his lifetime. Hell, he’d _killed_ plenty of them.

But the un-subtle possessiveness, the arrogance, his complete disregard for her free will…

He tilted his head back, looking to the stars as if they could answer him, soothe the strange anger bubbling in his chest. They shone back at him, reflecting cold and unfeeling on the beskar of his helmet. He listened for any movement in the hull before removing his helmet with a light _hiss_ of air _._ The cool, recycled air of the ship bathed his face, filling his lungs with the tangy mixture of metal, polish, and a hint of rust. The _Crest_ was adrift in space, wandered away from Kashyyyk and the New Republic presence. His intel earlier had given him direction, one ‘Gor Khoresh’ who knew about another Mandalorian. The small taste of success he’d achieved had been cut short, soured by the holo-transmission.

He sighed deeply. What he desired right now was a proper bath, some sleep, and divine intervention. Perhaps a stroke of lightning to strike his client dead.

For now, he had to settle with punching in the coordinates for a backwater planet off the Trax Tube, certain that he’d receive the usual, violent welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henlo! I have been FLOORED by the support on this story :D I know people might say this often, but I genuinely didn't expect anyone to read it. I'm just glad to be writing with a purpose again.
> 
> Okay references: exchange rate of Galactic Credits to US dollars is 1:2.10, so 75,000 credit bounty is over $150,000. I have no idea how money works in Star Wars, but that's close to buying a new Millenium Falcon according to this Reddit post~ tinyurl.com/2x93cf8f
> 
> Gor Khoresh is the Abyssin (one eyed spooky dude) in S2 ep 1 of Mandalorian, the one with the fighting ring. Going to start working loosely off the storyline; key word is LOOSELY.
> 
> Finally, the "Trax Tube" is a hyperspeed lane in space that gets a good amount of traffic and has a planet or two where pirates set up ouposts to prey on ships. There's no planet indicated where Gor Khoresh is operating off of, so I'm putting it there as one of those outpost planets


	12. Blaster battle baby

Yona came to an hour later, hearing the clang of armor hitting the ground and a muttered curse, once again in a language she couldn’t identify. She cracked one eye open in the flickering light, peering over to see the Mandalorian fastening his armor onto his legs. Still half asleep, she noted the thickness of his thigh, how his hands deftly moved the metal guards into place. It was difficult to forget how imposing he was, towering over her in a hulking mass of metal and muscle. He was all hard angles, a strong and efficient fighter. A killer.

Oddly enough, the thought no longer terrified her. The idea that he would whip out a blaster on her as she slept was less frequent, letting her observe him out of curiosity, rather than abject wariness. He hadn’t done anything to make her uncomfortable, in fact, he’d taken opportunities to _care_ for her. And that detail served to stoke the flames of her growing admiration of him. He was dangerous, widely unliked, and often coldly quiet. And yet, he constantly surprised her, shattering that desolate image. A smooth, baritone voice that soothed her worries, a firm grasp on her hand as he led her to sleep, a kind patience when it came to the child…

Yona found herself sighing. _Beautiful._ How can he be so _beautiful?_

The Mandalorian looked at her, “You awake?”

“Yes,” she sat up quickly.

“I have to go out for a bit,” he straightens to his full height, flexing his legs to ensure the armor was in place. Yona tried not to stare. _Keep it together, girl!_

“Oh, so do you want me to watch the kid?” she cocks her head, waving to the child bouncing up and down in his little hammock.

“Well…” he hesitates, “This is a dangerous planet, I don’t know if leaving you two on the ship is the best idea. Do…you know how to use a blaster?”

“No.”

“Can you fight?”

“No.”

He scoops up the child, looking at her with what seemed to be a degree of nervousness, “It wouldn’t be easy for anything to get on the _Crest_ , but I could bring you both with me.”

Yona nearly starts vibrating in excitement, “I’d never say no to exploring!”

“Ah…well, we’re going into a fighting ring. With pirates.”

She pauses, furrowing her brow, “Huh. With a baby.”

He sighs, annoyed, “Yes, with a _child._ ”

“That really doesn’t make it better.”

He fixes her with a tired stare, “Are you going to come or not?”

“…I will,” Yona concedes after a moment.

“Good,” placing the kid gently into his bassinet, he paced over to the weapons cabinet. He picks up a smaller blaster, putting it gently into her hands.

“Some ground rules: Stay close to me, don’t use this unless you have to, stay _out_ of the shadows,” he’s so close, she can see her slightly disheveled self clearly in his visor.

“Why?” she asks, feeling breathless all of a sudden, the weapon feeling heavy in her hands.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answers dismissively. He hurriedly grabs a spare cloak, old and tattered, tossing it lightly to her.

She frowns at that, opening her mouth to retort. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and an exhale, a sound made staticky through the vocoder.

“You don’t have to trust _me_ , but trust that I know what I’m doing, fair?”

Yona nods through the lump in her throat, apprehensive. He gives her shoulder a slight squeeze, lingering for a moment before releasing her. Strapping on his ammo belt, he opens the hull entrance. Yona peers out from behind him, draping the long cloak around her.

Night had fallen, making the features of the terrain blurry and unclear. A path lined with streetlamps wound through buildings covered in all manner of graffiti. The Mandalorian started along the dirt path with confidence, sticking to the pools of light. Yona stayed close, suddenly feeling very small. Her skin prickled with the feeling of being watched. She could _feel_ something nearby, something hungry. In a burst of what might have been courage or fearful curiosity, she squinted directly into the dark, stifling a yelp at the innumerable pairs of red eyes watching her walk past. She realized in a moment of frightened clarity that they remained far from the streetlamps, deep in the shadows. Even so, she walked closer to the Mandalorian, grabbing loosely on the edge of his cape. His head turned sharply at the small tug, relaxing when he saw her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered, not letting go.

“You’re fine,” he clears his throat, looking away quickly.

The child seems equally quiet, ears drooping slightly and warily glancing around. The trio walks in silence for a few minutes before they come across a Twi’lek leaning casually in a broad door frame. Mandalorian stops, motioning for Yona to stay back for a moment. They exchange a few words, the bouncer giving him a wide grin and telling them to ‘enjoy the fight.’ Yona gulps, shrinking from the stare he gives her. As they cross the threshold, the Mandalorian pulls her hood up over her head and urges her forward with a hand on the small of her back. It’s an unspoken reminder to stay close, to be careful.

He murmurs into her ear, “If things go south, focus on taking cover.”

She nods, and he removes his hand. When they enter the crowd, she wishes he hadn’t.

An audience composed of all kinds of races and species across the galaxy cheer on a fight between two Gamorreans, locked into a violent match of blows. She flinches at the sounds of screeching metal, buzzing electricity, and groans of exertion. She stays close to the child’s pod, trailing Mando closely as he comes to a seat by a green Abyssin, who greets him. Taking a seat on his other side, she does her best to blend in, ignoring the jeers and shouts of the crowd. It’s too much, a sensory overload compared to the creeping dark creatures outside. She finds herself drifting in and out of the conversation happening next to her.

“Do you gamble, Mando?”

“Not when it can be avoided.”

The Abyssin chuckles in a way that makes Yona uneasy, watching the fight in the ring escalate. One Gamorrean was beginning to falter, movements too slow. She didn't enjoy the way the crowd cheered, urging on a fatal strike. She's broken out of her horrified fascination when she hears the proposal Mando is given. 

“…all you have to out up in exchange is your shiny beskar armor,” the Abyssin sneers.

Yona begins looking around the room, searching for cover. The kid looks at her, reaching out pleadingly. She furrows her brow at him, reaching to take his little hand. She feels a flicker of _something_ travel from her fingertips, up her arm. A thought, more image and feeling than words, came into her brain. A small spot behind the seat, near the steps; she saw it clearly behind closed eyelids. She looked at the child, mouth opened in an unspoken question, when he quickly pressed the button on his pod closed.

She felt a nudge from beside her, a sharp elbow to her back. The Mandalorian had his hands hovering over both his blasters sights fixed on the Abyssin’s guards. Her eyes widened, pushing the panic from her and focusing on safety. She lowered into a crouch, inching away from them. When the Mandalorian finally stood, taking aim, she army-crawled the rest of the way to the end of the row, wedging herself between the last seat and the concrete steps leading up the arena. The other patrons ran past her, and blaster fire zipped through the air above her head. The Mandalorian had his back to her hiding spot, focused on returning fire from the left side of the ring, focusing on the fighters covering the Abyssin’s exit. Yona could see one about to run in front of her, approaching him from behind.

She moved quickly, sticking a leg out in front of the guard to trip him just as he sprinted past, “Mando!”

He turned instinctively, firing at the prone target in a well-practiced motion. He looked around, trying to discern where she was. He stalked over to the downed guard, noticing the top of her cloaked head tucked in hiding.

“Hi,” she looked up at him.

“Hi,” he returned, breathlessly. He offered her a hand up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! This doesn't have Yona backstory in it, but don't be deceived, things are still brewing behind the scenes. Also a slow build of connection between her and the child; is it cliche? possibly. But I enjoy it, and hope you do too <3 Also shoutout to that cute hammock baby yoda has on the crest because I think it's the cutest thing EVER. Din's such a good dad. 
> 
> Not much to explain in this chapter, just that Abyssin is the race that Gor Khoresh is, the one-eyed mob boss mando meets with in episode 1 of season 2.


	13. Don't be a murderer or a tax evader (they might be the same thing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this chapter doesn't have a lot of Mando fluff time, but it does have some Baby Yoda time. Mando fluff will return quickly, don't worry ;)

~Yona~

“So, Tatooine, huh?” Yona settled into the co-pilot’s chair, knees tucked into her chest.

“It’s always Tatooine,” the Mandalorian sighs.

“Oh, so you’ve been there often?”

“More often than I’d like.” He answered, his voice passive as always, but she could feel the fatigue that lay beneath it.

He moved quickly, switching a few buttons on and navigating them back out into the open frontier of space. Yona caught a glimpse of the dark, hulking rock of a planet as they left it. Mando’s methods were harsh, burning the agonized screams of Gor Khoresh deep into her memory. She had to fight against the horrible curiosity that compelled her to turn and look. The human instinct to scope out a threat and ensure her own safety. The Mandalorian simply walked away, not an ounce of hesitation or guilt in his posture.

It was moments like these, watching him go through the motions of piloting that she could see the toll it took on him. Upon arriving on his ship, she’d quickly learned his sleep schedule was practically non-existent, he ate infrequently and nowhere near enough, and, frankly, he smelled. She worried that her presence was making it difficult for him, that just by being here she was infringing on his privacy.

Soon enough, they went into the first hyperdrive jump, ship rattling lightly before settling into the usual smooth, humming rhythm. The Mandalorian slumped back in his chair, rolling his shoulders in a series of cracking bones. He grunts, going on to roll his head.

“Hey, Mando, don’t take this the wrong way, but you should take a shower. I’ll keep the kid up here with me,” Yona offered.

He turned his head to face her, emotionless visor fixing her with a look.

“I promise, we’ll stay here won’t we, bug?” she prompted the child, who looked between the two of them, ears twitching.

He mulls it over with a sigh, rising from his chair, “If you pull anything, I’ll have to kill you,” his tone cold and serious.

Yona felt a shiver crawl down her spine at the threat. She nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Good,” his cape _swished_ as he turned, leaving her and the kid in the quiet cockpit.

She waited a few minutes before bringing the kid to the corner farthest from the entrance and sat him down on the floor, positioning herself so her back faced the ladder. _Just in case._

She looked at the child, “Okay you, we have to talk about the weird mind thing.”

He cooed at her. She thought for a minute, before reaching out to him. His little tridactyl hand didn’t quite cover her palm. He giggled as she examined his fingers, looked right into his dark eyes. She huffed, sitting back on her heels. _I couldn’t have imagined it._ He waddled a few steps closer to her, that contagious smile still across his face. She patted his wrinkly head.

“Hm, I wonder, can I try something bud?” he cocks his head at her.

She placed her hand gently on his head, feeling the soft hair that covered his skull. _Maybe…if he can reach me, I can reach him?_ Closing her eyes, she tried to think. She tried giving his head a little squeeze, to which he made a questioning noise, but nothing else. _Perhaps I’m approaching this wrong._

She envisioned the feeling he gave her before, letting the thought trickle through her limbs and pooling behind her fingertips. She furrowed her brow.

A little jolt, a static spark danced along her pinky. She felt a twitch of muscles, so quick it was almost imperceptible. Then, nothing. She exhaled, feeling a little drowsy. The kid started laughing, and she opened her eyes, hand still placed on his forehead. His gaze was fixed on her head. She reached her other hand up, gasping when she felt locks of it floating loosely in the air. When she brought her other hand up to feel, they all fell back to her scalp abruptly. The kid made a little disappointed noise, turning to find something else interesting on the ground.

“You can’t just walk away after that!” Yona felt giddy, scrambling after the kid.

“Did…did you do that? Did _I_ do that?” She flexes her fingers.

Yona was still gaping at her hands when the Mandalorian came back up, wearing different clothes under his armor.

The kid trotted past her to approach him, hands up in the air. He lifts him easily, holding him in the crook of his elbow.

“That was quick,” Yona stood quickly, brushing off her pants.

He shrugged, taking his seat once again, “Anything on fire?”

She scoffs, walking to join him, “Of course not!”

His shoulders shake slightly in a silent laugh. They sit together in silence, taking in the peacefulness of the stars stretching past them.

“…Thank you for watching him,” he admits quietly.

“No problem,” she brushes it off, “It’s got to be hard trying to maneuver around him. I’m glad to be able to do this much for you.”

“What do you mean?” he sounds confused.

“You haven’t turned me in yet, right? If I make myself useful, you’ll let me go,” Yona smiled tensely.

“You don’t…owe me anything. I’m willing to bet you don’t owe _anyone_ anything. I’m bringing you somewhere safe, because it’s…it’s the right thing to do,” he stumbles through his words, adding, “I think.”

Yona feels a burning sensation lurking somewhere under her sternum. After spending so long with Vero, who took every chance to remind her how much she owed him, it was difficult to accept otherwise. She was trying to stand, to drift away from the doubts and sorrow she felt with him, to grow past it. Most importantly, she didn’t want to go back to that state again, to let him devalue and dissuade her. She filed away the Mandalorian’s words, holding them close to her heart, an affirmation for her future. _You don’t owe anyone anything._

She cracked a smile, “What if I was a serial tax evader? Surely I’d owe someone then?”

He looked at her bewildered, “What…taxes? You’re not…right?”

She snickered at him, and she could feel the eyeroll under his helmet.

“Don’t joke about that on Tatooine,”

“Why not?”

“They might think you’re evading the murder tax.”

“The…what? Okay, no joking about that on Tatooine,” she corrected, eyes wide in surprise.

“It’s a rough planet, and though you don’t look like a merciless bounty hunter, better safe than sorry,” the Mandalorian turned to flick one more switch, hand hesitating over the button, “Could you promise me to stay down in the hull with the kid for a few minutes?”

“Oh, sure,” she blinked at the change in subject, “Everything good?”

He held up a pack of rations he stowed in his pockets.

“Ohhhh, okay come on kiddo,” Yona picked up the kid, going down to the hull, “Take your time!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey babes! Was traveling yesterday, so I couldn't update. But I got this out!! 
> 
> Couple things: Tatooine action ahead woot woot! Yona's strange 6th sense is taking shape >:) (Not confirming anything yet). 
> 
> Reference in this chapter to "the murder tax." Star Wars does, in fact, have a tax system across the galaxy but it's mostly on trade and more centralized per planet. The murder tax is a thing introduced briefly in episode III, Return of the Jedi (which I watched two nights ago). SO much murdering was happening on Tatooine that Jabba the Hutt introduced it as a way to keep bounty hunters from thinning each other out. People resorted to hiding the bodies rather than get caught and have to pay the tax. On chaotic Tatooine, I'm assuming that's the main tax someone would pay; like...property tax? on a desert planet? I don't think so. 
> 
> But wait, Jabba's dead, why would it still exist? Well in Star Wars lore, the power vacuum is filled briefly by another Hutt before being taken over by Boba Fett. I'm placing us in around that period since Boba only gets his armor back in Mandalorian season 2. Presumably the Hutts would keep to Jabba's leadership to prevent further unrest, so that's just how I'm playing it!


	14. Baby Yoda is a speed devil

~Din~

Din could name plenty of places where he was not wanted, and this planet was close to the top of the list. Tatooine was a bright, dusty blot of rust among the stars.

Yona’s voice sounded from below, exasperated, “Are we there yet?”

“Yes,” Din rolled his eyes.

“…Really?!” She bounded up the ladder, holding the child in one arm. She stood behind his seat, looking over his shoulder out the window. She whistled, “I don’t know why, but I imagined it would look like Nevarro.”

“It’s dustier than Nevarro,” the Mandalorian noted.

“So…it’s an actual desert? Not all rocky?” she nearly chirped with excitement.

Din couldn’t fathom how she still seemed _excited_ over a planet like Tatooine. Still, he noted it for when he needed to find her a new home. He felt a sort of spasming feeling at his heart. _She’ll be gone soon…the kid, too._

“What kind of planet are you from, Mando?” Yona tears her gaze from their destination to look at him, no malice in her eyes, only curiosity.

His arms tensed, his brow furrowing at the memory, “I am a foundling. I was too young to remember much of it.” It was only _half_ a lie. He didn’t want to remember his old life, held it arm’s length away from him. It remained only in the peripheral of his mind, blurry memories before the vivid day he was taken in by the Mandalorians.

She blinked at the implication, her smile dropping slightly, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, more a motion to dissipate the ghosts threatening to come back than to dissuade her, “It was a long time ago.”

“Well, if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here,” hesitantly, she placed a hand on his shoulder, the space uncovered by beskar.

Din felt his mind completely reboot at the softness of her action. There was…sympathy in her voice, in her touch. It was a painful realization, salt rubbing into a raw wound. Yet, he found himself compelled to sink into it. She encouraged it, to open up his pain. To redistribute his burden and possibly lighten it in the process. She gave his shoulder a little squeeze, lingering subtly on the tense muscle.

“Kriff, Mando, you could use a massage, your muscles have got to hurt,” she lightened her tone once more, gently letting them move away from the subject. He was grateful for it.

“Never had one,” He responded, “And…they’re far too expensive.”

“So, you _have_ considered it!” She grinned at the new discovery. He immediately regretted his response.

“No, someone offered,” he thought back to when Karga had congratulated him on delivering the kid to the Imperials.

“Someone offered a Mandalorian a massage?” she chuckled, “They must be very brave or very foolish.”

“…definitely not the former.”

She gave out a full laugh at that, bringing a small smile to his own face. He found a strange, unfamiliar joy in seeing her enjoy his company. Perhaps she didn’t choose to be around him, but in some moments, he felt like she _had_ chosen…to an extent. While she was a bounty, of course he would have hunted her down if she tried to escape or frozen her if she attacked him. But after the day in Kashyyyk, when she knew he wouldn’t drag her back, she hadn’t run. She’d been ridiculously happy, practically _skipping_ back to the ship while she chatted with him. Din couldn’t deny how he enjoyed the way she would fill up the lonely silence, add a bit of wonder to the things he’d considered ordinary for so long.

They entered Tatooine airspace, drifting over a squat city, a collection of rounded, tan buildings that blended in with the landscape. Din guided the ship to one particular rounded building with a large space in the center, open enough to fit the _Crest_ and crawling with a couple of busy humanoid figures. As they descended, he could identify them as Peli’s droids. He suppressed his base inclination against droids, IG-11’s sacrifice still vivid in his mind. How cruel fate is, that he would face extermination at the hands of one droid, and a miraculous recovery under the care of another.

Maybe he’d let them take a crack at the ship, just for a little while.

~Yona~

Yona stood with the Mandalorian as he landed the ship, glancing around at the hangar. He stood, leading her down and out the hull door. Before following him into the desert air, she grabbed the kid from his pod, bouncing him gently. He squealed happily, bringing a huge smile to her face.

She heard a woman’s voice, chastising, “Hey hey hey! Sorry, gang come on! You know he doesn’t like droids!”

“It’s fine, they might as well have at it,” she hears the Mandalorian grunt. She cautiously steps out, keeping close to him.

Yona spots a middle-aged mechanic with a halo of dark, curled hair. Her clothes were practical, if a bit messy, and she exuded confidence. At the Mandalorian’s response, she looks a little shocked but waves her droids back forward.  
  


“A lot has changed since you were last in Mos…what’s this now?” she spots you and the child with a gasp, “ _You_ found a _girlfriend_?”

“No,” the Mandalorian coughs, “she’s traveling with me temporarily.”

Despite the queasy feeling she felt at his affirmation of her imminent departure from his life, Yona nodded vigorously, a blush hiding in the tips of her ears, “Yep! What he said!”

“Uh huh…” the mechanic hummed, “It’s a shame, you could have softened him up a bit. Now, let me see that little womp rat!”

Yona’s blush encroached further, but she stepped forward, passing the child gently to her. The woman smiles, the child cooing at her.

“Looks like it remembers me! How much do you want for it? Just kidding…not really,” Yona can’t help the chuckle that escapes her.

The mechanic looks at her, a question on her lips when there’s a loud hissing noise from the ship. She tuts, fixing the droids with a withering glare.

“Hey! Oh, jeez. Watch it, he barely trusts your kind!”

The Mandalorian interjects, “I’m here on business. I need your help.”

She and the Mandalorian exchange a few words while Yona took an opportunity to look around. She searched for a door, eager to see the planet they landed on. She’d just found it when she felt an iron grip on her shoulder. She nearly jumps out of her skin with a yelp.

“This is not the planet to wander,” the Mandalorian’s modulated voice is right next to her ear.

She shivers, “Noted.”

His hand lingers a minute, pausing before brushing a lock of hair out of her face. It hadn’t grown much since she left Coruscant, but it still had a penchant for drifting into her eyes. She’s stunned at the gentleness in his touch, the line of his finger brushing against her cheek in a gesture that she could almost identify as caring.

The mechanic barks at the two of them, “Hey! I have the map out, get over here, lovebirds!”

The Mandalorian breaks out of the soft moment, turning sharply to walk back to the R5 unit that sat in front of the ship. Yona stared after him, walking in a daze.

“Okay, this is a map of Tatooine before the war. You got Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and up in this region,” Yona leans in as the mechanic gestures to a flat region, “Mos Pelgo.”

“I don’t see anything,” The Mandalorian sounded impatient.

“Me neither. Is it underground?” Yona asked. It was common for settlements to be underground on her home world. Once they ran out of space on the surface of Coruscant, they built upward, and then looked below. The planet supposedly had a liquid mantle, but civilization descended deep into the crust of it, stopping short of any magma pockets.

“No, but it’s there. At least it used to be. It’s an old mining settlement,” she spared a glance at the ship, “and they’ll see that big hunk of metal long before you land.”

The Mandalorian grunts, “You still have that speeder bike?”

Yona broke into a grin.

~Still Yona~

When she’d heard they’d be taking a speeder, she was excited, expecting it to be similar to inner city transport. Then, they’d started moving.

_This was SUCH a bad idea._ Yona thought, squeezing her eyes shut as she held around the Mandalorian's waist. She was too afraid of the landscape hurtling past them to admire how his muscles flexed as he maneuvered the vehicle, or how his build narrowed slightly below his ribs, providing a perfect spot to wrap her arms around him. The bike was too fast, and though the flat desert was relatively uninterrupted, there was still the odd bump or weave in their journey. 

She squeezed the Mandalorian even tighter, hearing an _oof_ escape him.

“You alright?” he called back to her.

“Nope!” she squeaked, burying her face in his cloak, grains of sand pinging off the metal of his armor.

“Then can you stop strangling me?” If the sand rushing by wasn’t quite so loud, she’d have thought he sounded like he was smiling.

“Also, nope!” she reaffirmed.

She felt a rumbling laugh in his chest, and she felt a small, nervous smile come across her face. She could see the kid’s big, green ears flapping in the saddle bag beside her. He looked at her with an excited coo.

“Oh, _stars_ I’m going to die.”

Thankfully, she survived until they got to Mos Pelgo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Love the idea of riding a speeder bike into the sunset <3 but...maybe not on Tatooine.
> 
> No real references in this chapter, hope you enjoyed :)


	15. Don't try this at home kids, Massiffs are mean

~Yona~

The bike slowed to a languid pace, drifting into the small settlement that was Mos Pelgo. She loosened her grip on the Mandalorian in front of her, keenly aware of the stares they were getting. It was unnerving, the suspicion in their eyes, but she tried to push it from her mind. The speeder came to a stop in front of what seemed to be a cantina, as desolate and dusty looking as the rest of the town.

The Mandalorian rose, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, “Wait out front, but stay close,” he murmured, modulated voice smooth and seemingly unbothered.

She nodded quickly, “Okay, holler if you need anything.”

He proceeded into the bar, boots clunking against the old, weathered wood. She leaned against the building, keeping herself slightly out of view. The sun beat down on the town, and she looked around through squinted eyes. A bantha lowed loudly at the end of the promenade.

A figure was approaching the cantina.

Cautiously, she reached for the blaster that the Mandalorian had insisted she keep on her. As they grew closer, she could finally make out their face…or lack of one. She gaped, watching _another Mandalorian_ step into the bar. His armor was beaten up and incomplete, green paint that was chipped and marred by battle. He was slim, not quite filling the armor, but he walked with self-assured purpose.

She could hear the tone of conversation shift and smiled a bit in relief, sparing a glance at the speeder bike to make sure the child was still…

_Oh, Maker where’s the child?_

Her casual gaze turns frantic and she paces around the bike, “Bug?”

There’s a slight rumble to the ground. Crouching, she flattens her hand against the compacted sand, feeling it hum. It seems to spike up her arm like a live wire, and she feels _something_. It’s a concentration of energy, deep beneath the ground but rising quickly. Slowly, she turns to look at the entrance to the town, cascading waves of sand marking the entrance of that same creature.

"Bug, where are you?" she calls out urgently.

“Hey, girl, get up here!” she looks at the cantina to see the new Mandalorian, helmetless, waving for her to hurry. She stands quickly from her crouching position, moving to get up, but stumbled when the sand’s quaking intensified, the texture becoming soft and unsupportive. There’s a light hiss, and she shrieks when she feels a wire around her middle, then a sudden yank. It gets her close enough to reach the steps, making it onto solid ground and into strong arms.

She looks up to see _her_ Mandalorian holding her tightly, watching the giant creature for any deviation in its path through the town. His arms are corded, unyielding muscle under the beskar plating, keeping her close. She feels his breathing, slightly quickened from adrenaline. From this angle, she can look up and almost see a sliver of skin from where his cape ends, and his helmet begins. She knows she should look away, but finds herself enraptured by the tensed posture, the defensiveness, the security in his hold. He radiates power, control; two things she should hate. And yet, these same two qualities made her admire him, even made her feel safe. He was strong, but he wouldn’t use it to subjugate her. He was controlled in his actions, but never enforced it on the child or herself.

She winces, hearing a bantha screech unpleasantly. The Mandalorian looks down to her, as if he’d forgotten he was still squeezing her tightly.

“Is this payback for earlier?” she tries to joke lightly.

He lets her go, carefully disentangling her from the grappling wire “I’m never leaving you outside again.”

Her treacherous heart flutters, ecstatic at the promise of an ‘again.’ She has to squash it, shake it off, but can’t seem to find it in her. She sobers up when she remembers, "Where's the-"

A little coo came from beside the bar, his big green ears poking out the top of the tapered neck of a spittoon. 

The other Mandalorian clears his throat, looking at them pointedly, “Maybe we can work something out.”

~Still Yona~

 _Here we go again_. Yona tried valiantly to keep her eyes open for the next leg of speeder travel. Not only did she get a face full of sand, but the glare of the sun was daggering into her eyes. The old bike sputtered and lurched occasionally, fragile in comparison to the hulking, front-heavy bike the marshal rode. In the moments she could see properly, she was astounded by the sheer span of desert that lay ahead and behind them. When cresting a particularly tall dune she could see the horizon shimmering in the distance, dark blots of stone rising from the sand. The landscape slowly changed, featuring more reddish rocks that grew jagged and tall. The two speeders edged into a canyon, slowing to a stop. Yona looked around in awe, admiring the way the stone towered here, uninterrupted by inhabitants. At least, none that she could see.

As if on cue, a growling noise bounced off the walls of rock. Cobb Vanth appeared alarmed, getting his weapon ready. Yona spotted movement along the crevices in the canyon, inching back to put herself in front of the child. The Mandalorian appeared nonplussed, not flinching when a creeping pack of four-legged creatures inched into full view. Their faces were wide, teeth sticking out of their broad muzzles and spines extended down their hunched backs. Their skin was leathery and yet segmented and discontinuous.

“Mando, what are those? They don’t look friendly,” Yona whispered from behind him. He gave her a sideways glance before belting out the _loudest_ sound he’d ever made in front of her.

She widened her eyes as he stepped forward, waving the marshal down. Cobb Vanth looked at him, then to her in disbelief. She mouthed a confounded ‘what’ to him, to which he shook his head in confusion. The pack immediately shifted from hostile to curious, heads tilting at the sound.

One of the creatures pads forward, snuffling, and the Mandalorian crouches to _pet it._ He beckons her over, and she imagined he was smiling under his helmet. She steps forward cautiously, the creature looking at her inquisitively. Before she can say anything, the Mandalorian grabs her hand, covering it with his own to ensure she didn’t hurt herself on its spines. The creature hummed under her hand.

“Mando, what the fuck am I touching,” she hisses at him, not taking her eyes off of it. If she did, she feared it would take her hand off in one bite from those powerful jaws. 

“Massiff,” he said simply, as if it was the most basic thing in the world and _didn’t_ have flesh-rending teeth. He takes his other hand and firmly pets it on the side with a hollow sounding _pat._ The ‘massiff’ makes a contented noise, and she felt it rumble under her palm. Okay…maybe they were growing on her a little.

Still holding her hand, he rises, gently maneuvering her behind him as a few figures step out from behind the boulders. They didn’t appear to have faces, covered head to toe in wrappings and odd gear.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cobb Vanth hissed from their left.

The Mandalorian waves him off again, addressing the caravan in that same grunting language. Yona is fascinated, watching his hands slowly form gestures to match his intonation. _This is…a means of communicating?_ She’d come from a huge metropolis, had heard many languages in passing, but this was highly unordinary. In this moment, she felt an indescribable longing to know more about the mysterious man who she'd been traveling with.

As it was, she knew so little. Did he speak more languages? Why? Is Basic is native language? Does he enjoy his travels, or are they a means to an end? She felt sad for him, a lonely existence of hopping around from place to place with the dim, old compartment he called his bed. The _Crest_ was his home, and he had no one waiting for him to return. Maybe...he'd let her stay a little longer. She's already experienced so much with him, and hopefully he enjoyed her company. It could be an even trade, she could help him with his work, she gets to see the galaxy...She made a note to mention it when they returned to the ship. 

“They want to kill the krayt dragon too,” The Mandalorian conveyed, looking between the Yona and the marshal.

“Oh, that’s…good, right?” Yona snaps out of her thoughts, looking to the marshal, seeing the furrow in his brow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi I'm not dead, just back at college! Thanks for all the love this story has been getting!!
> 
> This chapter was fun to write bc I love the Massiffs. Like how cute are they?! Anywho, more Yona-centric plot is coming :) just you wait.


	16. The night is dark, the fire burns bright

~Yona~

After a tense exchange by the fire, the four of them agreed to settle in for the hours until the sun rose before leaving to the abandoned sarlacc pit the dragon had nested in. The raiders allowed them their own fire, leaving to prepare and rest in their tents.

Cobb Vanth and the Mandalorian argued on about their limited options and strategies, voices quietly competing with the crackling flames that kept them warm. The desert, Yona learned, could be astoundingly quite cold at night. She was curled tightly around the child, facing the fire in an effort to stay warm. The child nodded off quickly after a long day of travel, ears twitching against her cheek as he slept. Yona wasn’t so lucky, the occasional shiver wracking through her body and keeping her awake.

The two men began to quiet, the marshal muttering a final, “I’ll watch ‘em, still don’t trust these monsters.”

She heard the crackling sigh through the Mandalorian’s vocoder, a sound that had become far too familiar. His steps paced closer to her, sitting near her head. She tilted her head to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could speak Sand Person,” she mused.

“Tusken,” he grunted, visor fixed on the fire.

“Huh, any other languages?”

“Huttese, a word or two in Jawa, Mando’a. Nothing else extensively, just what I need to get by” he explained.

Yona whistled, “That’s more than I know. What was the last one…Mando’a? Is that what you’re cursing in all the time?”

He turned sharply to look at her, “…You hear that?”

Yona smiled, “I’ve got good ears.”

He nods slowly, turning back to fiddle with his gauntlet. The fire popped loudly.

“Have you always traveled alone?”

He nods again, “I travel alone, but I had my covert to return to.”

“Other Mandalorians?”

“Yes, they had to relocate from the settlement in Nevarro…they exposed themselves to help me save the child. And…they saved me, long ago,” she felt the pang of longing in his voice.

Yona hummed, “Well, for that they have my gratitude.”

“How so?”

“They saved you two, and in doing so they have saved me,” Yona kept looking at him, “I’m sure they’re proud of you now, wherever they are.” 

Their gazes met, an intensity filling the air that made her never want to look away. The fire light reflected off the steely beskar, leaving one side illuminated and the other in shadow. She saw no features but felt his strong eyes on her, and that was enough. In fact, in this moment, she didn’t think she could handle his unobstructed gaze without melting into a puddle. She shivered, though not entirely from the cold this time.

Her movement seemed to break that infinite moment. The Mandalorian reached to his neck, unclipping the fastening that held his cape around his shoulders. He walked over, shrugging it off and draping it over her and the child. He brushed his hand over the child’s head, gloved hand seeming huge in comparison.

Yona smiled at him, “Oh, you softie.”

He straightened, holding one finger up to where his lips would be, his shoulders shaking in a slight, quiet chuckle. Yona shook her head, tucking the cape further around the kid. It was of coarse, well-worn and weathered material, smelling of blaster residue and iron. Yona thanked him, the warmth slowly returning to her limbs. The Mandalorian returned to his spot on the sand, a few paces closer to them this time.

“…Hey, Mando?”

“Enough, sleep while you can,” he interjected.

“I will, I just want to hear you say something in Mando’a.”

He paused, “Then, you’ll sleep?”

Yona nods eagerly, trying not to jostle the sleeping child. He looks across the fire where Cobb Vanth has drifted away, doing a perimeter search for any threats. With a sigh, he does the unexpected.

He _sings_.

Well, it’s less of a song, more a quiet, mumbling hum of words. She listened to his intonation, breathing in the language she’d been long trying to identify.

_Tracyn malyasa'yr jarsida_

_Hettir bal hbina gar  
_

_O'r aaray olyay naak  
_

_O'r buurenaar olyay udesla_

“Now, sleep, _mesh’la.”_

Almost like he’d cast a spell, she fell into a deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter than usual, but it's pure f l u f f. I do apologize if he seems a bit out of character, but I really did like the sentiment in this scene <3
> 
> Mando'a translation:  
> The fire will warm you  
> Burn you and guide you  
> In the pain is peace  
> And in the storm is calm  
> (mesh'la means beautiful)
> 
> Fun fact, there's no canon lullabies/love songs in Mando'a. Only war songs and those aren't very soothing lol. I did some digging and this one creator wrote a lullaby that I thought was so sweet, here it is: http://forum.mandoa.org/viewtopic.php?t=176  
> So this is not my song, though I would love to have the proficiency to make one of my own. (winkwink)


	17. The Child is a cuddlebug, I called it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeey i'm here again! I had to rewrite a big chunk of this, so it's shorter and still not quite where I liked it. Keep your eye out for the next chapter with a little battle action >:)

~Din~

Late into the night, Din had nodded off into a light sleep. He kept close to Yona and the child, alert to any movement in their direction. They were largely uninterrupted, the Tuskens gave their fire a wide berth. His eyes flickered open, still heavy with fatigue. His muscles still ached, and several bones popped into place as he rolled his neck. The sky above them had lightened slightly, the dark blue precursor to sunrise. The camp was active, a few banthas being suited up to ride. From what he could gather yesterday, the dragon’s nest wasn’t far, but the raiders tended to move before the heat of the sun reached its apex.

He turned his head, regarding the lump next to him. Yona remained tucked around the child, who was beginning to stir. Her unoccupied arm was tucked under her head, hair spilling out onto the sand like rivulets of water. Slowly, Din sat up, stretching his protesting muscles. The fire had died down, red embers and charcoal remaining. He looked up to see Cobb Vanth fiddling with his blaster, dark circles under his eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine,” the marshal looked at him pointedly, “They’re on the move.”

The Mandalorian gave him a nod, standing and dusting the sand off of his legs. He crouched once more by Yona, giving her shoulder a little shake. Her face scrunched up in displeasure, one eye regarding him with a degree of distaste. The child looked at him adoringly, giving him a little toothed smile.

Despite the awful sleep and less than ideal circumstances, the Din felt himself smiling. 

"Did I miss anything?" her voice was slightly raspy with sleep, sending a shiver down his spine. He shook his head in response, not trusting himself to speak. How was she still so captivating? Her hair was mussed and sandy, clothes ill-fitting and disheveled, but in his eyes, she was stunning. She drew him in, invited him to let his guard down. He couldn't resist. He reached out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, thumb brushing against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed again, and he convinced himself he imagined how she leaned into his touch. 

“Time to get up,” he told her softly, before pacing around the fire to find the leaders of the tribe. 

~Yona~

The sun rose, hazy in the distance. The _second_ sun followed, close behind. A sunrise of ultimate proportions crawled over that flat horizon, dragging color and warmth with it. As they trudged through the sand, Yona admired the sky. Pollution didn’t mask anything here; it was all unfiltered and laid out for her to see. There were no clouds to obscure the stars as they slowly retreated, slinking away from the morning.

“You may want to watch where you’re going,” Cobb Vanth teased.

Yona acknowledged him with a smile, “I will, I will. Just a few more moments.”

She raised her head, drinking in the sight of such untouched land. It was harsh, barren, and unforgiving, but in the early hours, it was still. A breeze ruffled through her hair, rogue strands of it covering her eyes. The dune was uneven, she stumbled on the sand. But she was undeterred. What if she never saw a sight like this again? If she was found, brought back to Coruscant, if everything came crashing down, she would treasure this morning scene, replaying it over and over until the end of her days.

She heard a sigh somewhere in front of her, before an arm linked in with her own. She startled slightly at the chilled metal against her forearm, glancing up at the Mandalorian. Warmth rushed up her neck and into her cheeks.

“If you trip off this dune, I’m the one that has to pick you up,” he tilted his head at her, a bit of exasperation in his voice.

“That’s why I keep you around,” Yona grinned at him, squeezing his arm closer and returning her gaze to the sky. Her heart fluttered, hearing the soft exhale that crackled through his modulator.

By the time they grew close to the krayt dragon’s dwelling place, the day had begun, brightening the whole desert. They waited on a larger dune as the Tusken Raiders guided a bantha to the mouth of the cave.

“Poor thing,” Yona creased her brow.

“What…the dragon?” the Mandalorian looked at her questioningly.

She stared at him, “Yes, Mando, poor giant dragon monster. Eating people is _such_ a lonely occupation.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Yona panicked a little, thinking she crossed a line. She backpedaled quickly, “That was--”

“I don’t know, eating people is only lonely after you’ve eaten them.”

She gaped at him. He looked at her. After a moment of silence she broke, laughing hard enough to hurt her sides. The Mandalorian’s shoulders shook discreetly, turning back to face the cave.

“Wow, okay, now I keep you around for your humor,” she wiped the corners of her eyes.

“It’s time to focus,” he tried to bring the sincerity back to his voice, but she could hear the smile.

She nodded, still grinning, “Let’s get ‘em.”


	18. Mando is a snack

~Yona~

In normal circumstances, Yona would be ecstatic to learn about a new creature. But the more she learned about the krayt dragon, the more nervous she became. It was _huge_ with rows of flesh rending teeth. It undoubtably snacked on humanoids, and she didn’t envy those that had to get up close and personal.

To her relief, Mando refused to let her be anywhere near the cave, higher up on a ledge with the child. She fiddled with the sleeves of her tunic, chewing on her bottom lip. People would die today. It hung in the air, the lurking apprehension concentrated in that dark, gaping pit. Yona had seen people die before, Coruscant was a rough city. But she hadn’t seen people…eaten. That was a little out of her comfort zone. The anxiety mounted when she thought of the Mandalorian, front and center; ready to lead. Her eyes fixed onto him, shiny and every bit the warrior she knew him to be. With a start, she realized she would _miss him_. If he…died today, she would be alone again.

She shook the thought from her mind, he was capable and strong. He’d (unenthusiastically) signed up for this and knew the risks. She breathed in the hot air of the desert, willing her mind to calm. _He’ll make it._

The shiny head turned toward her ledge. She wanted to tell him to get right back up here, but settled on a little wave, bouncing the child on her hip. Even from this distance, she could see the tension in his posture lessen marginally. _He’ll make it._

The Tuskens began to roar and honk, raising hell at the mouth of the cave. The ground beneath them rumbled and shook. She held her breath. Willing the dragon to take the bait and be done with it. There it was…the rippling sand that sloshed like angry waves. Yona had only seen pictures of the ocean before, a recreation of what Coruscant’s ocean had looked like before mankind rose. But where the ocean depiction she’d seen was dark blue-green and rhythmic, the pale sand began moving with small, trembling crests, growing with intensity as the creature burrowed to the surface.

And it soon did, ugly maw opened wide, lunging for the retreating sand people. The child looked at the sight curiously, eyes wide with surprise.

“He’s going to be fine,” Yona told him, wishing she could believe it herself.

The action passed in a blur; the damn beast didn’t make things easy, spraying acid on the people below. She watched the Mandalorian and the marshal fly up to antagonize it further. She gripped the child tightly, only realizing when he gave a squeal of protest. _He’ll make it. He’ll make it._

The fight moved back to the mouth of the cave. On the ground, one bantha remained, strapped with excess explosives. The Mandalorian was talking to the marshal, before he was abruptly sent flying her direction. Yona’s eyes rose in horror. _No, no no no._ The Mandalorian braced himself, hand on the lead of the bantha. _No, not him._

_NO! RUN, YOU IDIOT!_

The Mandalorian startled, looking back at her. And then the dragon descended. Yona fell to her knees. The tears didn’t come, a gasp never leaving her throat. It just held there, blocking her airflow.

The world was spinningly still, quiet and calm. Townspeople and Tuskens struggled on the ground, some burned by the acid, others still and unmoving. The marshal stood, watching the spot where he was almost swallowed, his shoulders slumped.

A rumble beneath the earth.

In a show of sparks, the dragon resurfaced, squirming in agony. The tears finally broke when she saw her Mandalorian fly out from the beast’s mouth, detonating the explosives in a massive shockwave. The krayt twitched, groaned and fell to the ground, lifeless. Yona set the child down beside her, still heart still pounding. Within moments, the Mandalorian had flown over to them, landing lightly in front of her.

“Why are you on the ground? Are you hurt?” He asked, crouching with her. He looked over her for injuries.

She lunged for him, arms around his neck. He froze.

“Don’t do that again, please,” she murmured. A few tears dropping into his cape.

She felt him nod hesitantly against her, “I’ll try.”

He moved to disentangle himself from her, but she clung to him tighter, “Just…one more minute.”

“I’m covered in Krayt dragon,” he held still, letting her hold onto him, “If there’s any acid on me, it’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. He sighed at her stubbornness. Behind her back, he removed one slimy glove, using his clean hand to cradle the back of her head. He tentatively dragged his fingers through her hair, in an effort to be soothing. The adrenaline was fading from both of them, and Yona’s eyes drooped. She hadn’t fought anything and yet she felt tired.

“Ouch,” Yona complained when his fingers snagged in a tangle, “but don’t stop.”

He gave out a breathy chuckle, “You…scared me with that scream earlier.”

She frowned, “I didn’t scream.”

“You did, and you called me an idiot. How were you so loud?”

She looked him square in the visor. He stared back. She started slowly, “Mando, I didn’t scream that.”

He tilted his head slightly, “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t even open my mouth, the words caught in my throat.”

“And…I heard it.”

She nodded. He looked over her shoulder at the child, who was standing quietly next to them. He let go of her, and this time she allowed it. He offered her a hand up.

“Mando, I don’t know what’s happening,” he eyed her contemplatively.

“Have you done that…before?” he asked slowly.

“No,” she felt her pulse quicken, “But…sometimes the child shows me things. Doesn’t he do that with you?”

He looks at her, long and hard. She shifts uncomfortably under his stare _._ The visor hid his expression from him and it did nothing to soothe the mounting anxiety.

“…who are you?” he asked cautiously.

“I was born and raised on Coruscant, I’ve never left my planet until recently, I like reading and am mildly afraid of strangers,” her voice wavered, nervous at the sudden inquisition.

“Parents? Did you go to school?” he pushed.

She stuttered, “I-“

“Hey, Mando, I need you to talk to the sand people,” Cobb Vanth landed next to the two of them. When he saw the way the Mandalorian straightened, he raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll talk about this later,” The Mandalorian said to Yona, pausing when he spotted her hands. He used his hand to turn her downcast gaze to him gently, “Wait for me.”

When he turned to leave, she noticed that she was shaking like a leaf. The child tugged on the bottom of her pants with a coo. She sat back down next to him, breathing herself back to a less panicked state. _It’s okay. He’s not angry. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong._

_“You don’t owe anyone anything.”_ His words echoed into her head, and she held onto them. _We’ll figure this out._

She heard a small sizzling sound and looked down at her shirt, now slightly pock-marked with little holes. She chuckled nervously. _Maker, he really did have acid on him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi it's me. Was thinking of holding off on posting this chapter, but I don't want to keep y'all waiting for too long :) Thank you SO much for all your support!! Every comment makes me want to cry a little
> 
> The plot thickens >:) Okay, if you don't know by now, Yona is some kind of force-sensitive individual. I'm free-forming it, so things may stray from the canon. I'll add it to the tags once it's fully fleshed out!


	19. Telepathy isn't a party trick, Mando

~Yona~

A few goodbyes, a whole lot of gore, and a very long speeder bike stint later and they were back within the settlement of Mos Eisley. The Mandalorian had been quiet the whole time. She sighed in relief when the familiar frizzy-haired mechanic came back into view, only to get pulled aside and into the _Crest_. The Mandalorian’s grip was tight on her arm, but not bruising.

“I’ll watch the kid, but you owe me extra!” she called from behind them. Yona swallowed thickly.

Only once they were in the hull did the Mandalorian speak, “Can you do it again?”

“What?” Yona blinked at him.

He gestures toward her head, “Try again, do what you did before.”

“I didn’t mean to do it before.”

“Just…try,” she looked at him for a minute, searching for any indication of his intentions.

Finally, Yona nodded, trying to think back to how she felt on that ledge, when she saw him get swallowed. She felt so scared, sick with worry. But above all, she couldn’t _bear_ the thought of him dying alone on Tattooine, leaving the child behind wondering where he went. She felt helpless, unable to do _anything_.

_I don’t want you to die._ Yona looked at him, “…anything?”

He shook his head, “Keep trying.”

_I don’t think I want to leave you and the kid._

_I want to be able to protect you too._

“Are you still-“

“Yes! Yes, Mando I’m _trying,_ ” she groaned, impatient and hungry after a long day of travel.

_Can we please go eat now?_ She looked at him expectantly. He sighed, “Nothing.”

She huffed, rubbing her eyes. He looked at her for a moment, before turning to rustle around by the supply crate in the hull. She looked over when he returned with a folded lump of purple fabric in his hands. 

“What’s that, another space orphan?” she grouched at him.

He gave her a dry look, before holding it out for her to take it, “…it’s for you.”

“Oh,” she unfolded it, revealing a dark, purple tunic with long sleeves, embroidered with white thread leaves. It was a durable fabric, a bit heavier than the clothes she was used to, but the thickness of it gave it a comfortable weight. Reverently, she held it up to herself, noting that it was slightly larger, probably built for a small Wookie but providing plenty of room to move around in.

“This is from…” she started.

“Kashyyyk,” He finished, shifting his weight between his feet and seeming very interested in the wall behind her, “You were looking at the stall at the market.”

“Why?”

“You’re not used to the cold,” he stated.

  
She looked at the piece of clothing, willing the tears to go back down, “I…Thank you, Mando, it’s beautiful.”

He nods, awkwardly, clearing his throat, “Could you go make sure the kid hasn’t tried to eat the dragon meat? I have to check a couple things.”

She tears her gaze from the garment with a nod and a weak smile, her irritation dissapating, “Of course. Let me just change first.”

He turns abruptly, quickly scaling the ladder to the cockpit. Yona smiles wider.

~Din~

Din closed the hatch to the hull, taking his gloves off one by one, then removing the helmet with a hiss. His face felt hot, was he overheating? Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the small smile off his face. _She likes it._

He quickly chastises himself, checking the cockpit for any improvements Peli made to the controls. The _Crest_ was better off, hyperdrive operating at a higher efficiency. Some of the buttons had been replaced. A new weld surrounded the light box on the wall. She really was one of the most thorough mechanics he’d found on Tattooine.

Taking a seat in the pilot’s chair, he noticed a new transmission. The smile slowly disappeared, giving way to a grimace. Din listened for Yona, shuffling around in the hull. When he was certain she had left to join the mechanic and the child, he pressed play.

The blue figure of the client stood; arms crossed in vexation on his dashboard.

_“Mandalorian, requesting update. Your communications leave much to be desired. I will ask once more, have you apprehended the target’s location? If you do not arrive by tomorrow, our deal will be terminated, and I’ll be forced into making other arrangements. I hold no ill will toward you. If this mission is out of your depth, by all means, walk away. Otherwise, update me of your progress. My patience is wearing thin.”_

This time, the client’s smile was gone. His face was blank, unreadable. The congeniality had vanished, eyes cold and posture stiff. The Mandalorian scoffed derisively, leaning back in his chair. His head tilted up toward the stars, enjoying the cool, recycled airflow on his bare face. Why couldn’t he just let her go? What _compelled_ this man so deeply to reach for her across the stars?

Din closed his eyes, recounting the moments since he found Yona. The first time they’d met, he remembered the fear and confusion in her eyes. When he discovered her on his ship, she was desperate. When he apprehended her for the job, she was still afraid but resigned to her fate. There was no challenge, no real edge, just acceptance. Disappearing into the background, trying to make herself useful. It was that one moment that flipped a switch, when he pushed her, wanting to know _why_ she was running.

She opened up to him. In his company, she was able to process her past, feeling safe enough to confide in him. That in itself shocked him, her sudden trust in someone like him. He only listened to her, provided the basest human support. Yet with it, she flourished. Day by day, her confidence grew. She was less afraid of contradicting him or making him angry. She was enchanting, less apologetic. She was _free._

He flinched. Enchanting. That was just it. Her vitality, wanderlust, and humor. It all melded together, leaving him with a smile on his face and warmth in his chest after every conversation. Now that he’d experienced it, could _he_ let her go? Would he be just like Vero? Crazed and single-minded, holding her tightly and never letting her leave?

_No._ He shook his head with a sigh. Din had lived a long life. He had stopped keeping track of everything he’d given up. His life was one in a galaxy of trillions, and he dedicated it to his tribe, his faith. Without it, what meaning was there?

Thoughts of Sorgan, domesticity, and peace continued to painfully intrude, distracting him from his purpose. And since Yona had arrived, they’d been so much more prevalent. A shuddering exhale escaped him, desperate to relieve the ache he felt over his heart. He had never _wanted_ someone like this. It was uncomfortable, raw, and invasive. But her presence soothed the sting, made him yearn for it.

When she’d hugged him after fighting the dragon, he had felt all of the air in his lungs dissipate. It took everything in his being to not flinch away, krayt guts or otherwise. And despite that…she pleaded that he stayed. He felt wanted in return, _needed._ He still felt the ghost of her small arms tucked behind the nape of his neck, holding him closer to her. Her touch was dangerous, it beckoned him to give in, to hold her tighter. Had anyone ever wanted him like that before?

Feeling a burning behind his eyes, he exhaled again, stronger this time. He would find her a home, a nice one. One with lots of trees, quiet, and with plenty of wildlife. He would help her settle, make herself a home that she could live out a long life with everything she needed. He would make sure she would remain safe and free, and Vero could never take that from her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there <3 some Mando thoughts for you. Still developing Yona's abilities >:) and Din's difficulty computing how affection works. Once again, no real references in this chapter, I hope y'all enjoyed!!!


	20. Lil green wingman

~Yona~

The fire flickered lower in the grate, and the child began to doze in Peli’s arms. Yona smiled at his sweet, drooping eyes. The Mandalorian stood with a grunt, lifting the child from the mechanic’s arms to settle him in the ship. Yona watched him go, noting how small he looked cradled in his arms.

“They’re really a pair, aren’t they?” Peli whispers to you, conspiratorially.

Yona giggles, “Family finds a way,” she sighs, looking up at the stars.

The mechanic hums in response, “That it does. I’ve been on Tattooine my whole life, seen families of all shapes, sizes, colors, and creeds.”

“Sounds like you’ve had a full life, huh?”

She waves a hand at her, “In a way. My craft is my life now. I get enough excitement these days.”

Yona pauses thoughtfully, before asking, “No regrets?”

“None,” she shakes her head.

“…Any advice?” Yona looked at her hopefully.

Peli regards her steadily, “Nothing has served me better than instinct. This galaxy has too much in it to waste your time worrying.”

“Easier said than done,” Yona sighs.

“Maybe,” she concedes, “But sometimes, you'll find you just have to jump and hope like hell someone is there to catch you.”

A thud comes from the hull, followed by a delighted coo.

“So close…” Yona rises with a wince, hoping the kid would be resting when they had to leave. She boarded the hull, noting Peli’s chuckle behind her. In the dim light of the hull, the Mandalorian was holding the child, bouncing him slightly.

“You’re tired, I’m tired, please go to sleep,” he proposed quietly. The child lifted his hands toward his helmet. He sighed, lifting him higher so he could touch it. Two little tridactyl hands smoothed over the tinted visor, giggling at the feeling of the chilled metal.

Yona couldn’t bear to interrupt the moment, satisfied to stand and watch until the child’s eyes caught sight of her. He wriggled in the Mandalorian’s grip, twisting to face her, arms extended. She stepped forward, a smile on her face.

The Mandalorian handed him to her, “Anything you can do?”

She held him up, noting his hands touching the lines and features of her face in a similar fashion. She turned to regard the Mandalorian, feeling a sudden throb of something in her ribcage.

“Yeah,” she started, taking a shaky breath and petting the child's ears soothingly, “I’ll try.”

She rocks him from side to side, humming a slow little tune. She made a couple of faces at the child, his laughter easing her nerves temporarily. She looked to the Mandalorian, who was eyeing her thoughtfully, before stating abruptly, “It looks…good on you.”

Like it had never left, the squeeze around her heart returned. She smiles weakly, the falter in her pulse sudden and overwhelming. Before she could hesitate, overthink, and inevitably talk herself out of it, she beckons him closer. He hesitates but takes the few steps closer. Yona wordlessly opens her free arm, pulling him into a hug, the child centered between them with a surprised sound. Just like he did on the ledge, he tenses. She closes her eyes for a minute, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“I…you’re welcome,” he stumbles, “I’m…sorry I pushed you earlier.”

“I know,” she nods slightly against his plated shoulder.

“You…do?”

“I like to think you’re pretty expressive when you want to be, especially when something catches you off guard” she smiles, “I feel like I’ve known you much longer than a few weeks.”

The tension in his posture was relaxing, but his voice was still quiet “How? I can’t tell you my name, you’ll never see my face, how can you know me?”

“I just do,” she looks up at him, “I may not learn everything about you, but I've got at least enough to know you’re a good person.”

He scoffs at that, but she silences him with a shake of her head, continuing, “I’m glad you found me, Mando. I think I always will be. You’ve done more for me than you can imagine.”

He’s quiet, expressionless as she searches his visor with her eyes, desperate to find a crack in the armor. Not to see him, to violate his creed, but to know he felt her sincerity. To share the way he brought her peace.

“I won’t forget you, even when you leave me,” his voice is so quiet she almost misses it over the rasp of his modulator up close. He seems afraid of his own admission, his tone softer than she’d ever heard it. 

“Do you want me here?” she murmurs back, fearful that a raise in volume would startle him away. 

He inhales, arms tightening their grip around her and the child. For many moments they stand in bated breaths, Yona’s heart thunders in her ears, but she forces herself to be still, to stay strong for him. She fights the self-doubt, the rising feeling that she’d ruined everything. She fights the deeply rooted insecurity that he would cast her aside, that she was nothing to him after all.

With a shaky exhale, he presses his forehead to hers, the cool metal of the beskar helmet sending a wave of chills up her spine. He nods slowly, and though she cannot see his eyes, she can feel them watching her through the visor.

"I'll keep you safe, you can leave whenever you want, I'll help you build a life for yourself when you say the word-" the words suddenly rush out of him, uncertain and anxious. Two things she didn't see often in him. She placed a hand against the side of his helmet, thumb tracing the ridge that ran parallel to the visor. 

“Then I’ll stay,” she felt breathless, exhilarated at the sudden closeness, “as long as you’ll have me.”

There’s a little snore from between the two of them, and she averts her gaze for a moment to take in the sleeping child, his hands both resting on a part of them, an effort to keep them close. She hears the Mandalorian chuckle, quietly, a rare sound, and smiles at him. This time she doesn't have to guess if he’s smiling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fluff <3 but we're not done yet.....>:)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! Sorry for the gap in updates, I was feeling particularly mopey about being single this week. We're okay though, life goes on. For now, Din fluff!! And next time.... angst >:)

Yona had never seen anyone like the frog lady before. Growing up in a mega-city had its surprises, but nothing quite like her. They regarded each other warmly, and Yona was happy to help her feel more comfortable on the _Crest_. She seemed to have a very slight grasp of Basic, but nothing near enough to communicate complicated ideas. Still, a few hand gestures could go a long way.

While the Mandalorian piloted, Yona was using a pad of paper to draw things, very basic items like “blaster” or “water,” listened to her croak out her in her language and replying with her own. It would take a while to get to Trask and knowing how to communicate would be undoubtably helpful. She had a couple of pieces out for the child, letting him scribble about once he learned that paper and pencils are _not_ food.

The Mandalorian would turn around to regard them every now and again, meeting her gaze and holding it, before turning back to the controls. He didn’t speak, but she knew he was listening to them.

A few more buttons and he broke his silence, “I’ve set the nav, but it’ll take a while. Now’s a good time to get some rest.”

Yona stretched her arms upwards with a wince, “Okay, good plan.”

He offered her a hand up, which she accepted gratefully. He then scooped up the child, cradling him in one arm as he descended the ladder. As she reached the bottom, she saw him putting the child in a little hammock above his bed.  
  


“When did you do that?!” her face lit up at the sight.

“You were asleep….and he was being persistent,” he answered.

“You’re such a softie,” she smiled, sidling up next to him, “And _he_ might be an artist, those scratchings of his were pretty inspired.”

“…He barely knew what to do with the pencil.”

“Well, to be fair, he only has three fingers; I’m just proud that he could hold it.”

The Mandalorian seemed to concede, thinly disguising a breathy laugh with a disgruntled groan. Yona laughed herself, leaning her head on his metal shoulder and noting, with glee, that he did not tense this time.

“…Can you try that thing again?” the Mandalorian asked quietly, head turned to look at her. She looked up, seeing a sliver of golden skin peeking from under his helmet.

_Testing, testing._

She raised an eyebrow expectantly. He kept staring at her, uninterrupted. She closed her eyes, trying not to flush under the scrutiny.

_Hey, buckethead, why are you so good to me?_

“Are you—”

“Yes, I am trying,” she huffed. She cracked an eye open to regard him, before flicking her gaze to the little green goblin in the hammock.

“I have an idea,” she mumbled, shuffling a bit closer and putting her hand on the child’s head.

_Hey, bug? You hear me?_

The child cooed; black eyes locked onto her.

_Blink twice if you can hear me._

The child’s eyelids flickered closed, twice in succession.

“HA! Mando did you see that?” she felt the child wince, “Oh, bud, I’m sorry, that was loud.”

She took her hand off his head smoothing his ears gently.

“See what?” the Mandalorian prompted quietly.

“I told him to blink at me and he did it!”

“What if he was just blinking?”

“…Yeah, okay maybe, but that timing was pretty spot on,” she reaffirmed staunchly, turning back to the child, “One last thing and then you can sleep, sweetheart.”

She didn’t notice the Mandalorian shift a little, clearing his throat at the endearment. She closed her eyes again, placing her hand back on the kid’s head.

_Can you point at Mando if you can hear me?_

The child lifted a little hand, one finger stretched toward his guardian. The Mandalorian looked at her.

“Did you ask him to do that?”

This time, Yona removed her hand before answering, “I did. That was pretty cool, huh?”

“Do you know of the Jedi?”

“A little. I know that they’re all gone,” she replied, “Why?”

“I’m meant to take the child to them, they are his kind,” the Mandalorian said thoughtfully, “they have some sort of power wielded by the mind.”

Yona’s brow furrowed, “I’m not…like that though. I’ve never done this before, not in my life.”

“When was the first time it happened?”

“Well, first time I realized I could _talk_ was with the big sand dragon,”

“Krayt dragon.”

“Whatever. The first time I felt this energy was when you left me with the child for the first time…he showed me a memory,”

The Mandalorian nodded, “What did he show you?”

“You, up against a mudhorn. You were hurt, armor damaged, you were about to die. He was scared, upset, then very, very tired,” Yona thought, back to the memory, still present in her head, “He saved you.”

Her knees buckled suddenly, and on reflex the Mandalorian grabbed her, one arm secure around her waist.

“Huh,” she looked up at his visor, “That was weird.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just feel dizzy, sleepy. It’s strange, my mind is wide awake but the rest of me feels heavy,” she frowned, “this happened last time, too.”

He guided her to sit on his bed, walking off and returning with a cup of water. She accepted it gratefully, scooting over to the side, and nodding for him to sit with her. He hesitated, before sweeping his cape to the side and joining her. It was cramped, and her left leg was pressed up against his right one, touching right up to the hip.

“What does this mean, Mando? What do I do?” she asks quietly, unsure if she was ready for the answer.

“It doesn’t appear harmful. For now, we observe it, track how you’re feeling. I think Jedi…meditate? They were monks?” he ends on a question, and she can’t help but break into laughter. Her heart practically sings when he says ‘we.’

“You are too sweet,” she turned to smile at him, “You want to meditate with me?”

He looks away, “I’d really rather not.”

“What does that mean?” she tilted her head.

“I can’t sit still when you’re around. You’re…distracting,” he’s quiet, and if she didn’t know better, she would think he sounded embarrassed.

“I’m _interesting,_ ” she corrected with another chuckle, “And who’s to say you’re not distracting yourself?”

“So I’m interesting, then?” he looked at her again, more confidence in posture.

“Yes, Mando, you are very interesting,” she said softly, her words regaining their weight, “I could spend my whole life learning things about you.”

He paused before clearing his throat again. Another pause, as though he was going to say something.

Finally, he quietly reminds her, “You should rest, make sure your system goes back to normal.”

Yona nods putting her empty cup on the floor for the moment and watching him move back into his bed. She goes to stand, but he holds her wrist gently, “Stay? I…I want to make sure you’re okay.”

She tries to hide how her eyes widen, stuttering out, “Oh, sure,” and wincing at how high-pitched it sounded.

Before she could make it worse, she shifted into the space, careful not to bump her head on the child’s hammock. It was cramped as she settled in, pressed up close to him. She faced the wall, curling up to make herself comfortable as he turned off the lights and closed the hatch. It was pitch black in there, except for a blinking red light by the door. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

Despite that, she didn’t tense in surprise when a tentative arm draped over her waist. Before he could even think of taking it back, she clasped her own hand over his, keeping him there. When their fingers laced together, she noticed that he’d taken off his gloves. She felt warm, calloused hands; strong and battle-scarred. They were rife with small ridges, interruptions in the smooth skin. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She heard the slightest hint of a happy sigh rumble through the modulator as he held her hand tighter, resting over her ribcage. A thumb wandered over the back of her hand, tracing each of her knuckles. She acutely felt him breathing, the way his chest rose and fell even under all that armor. It was a peaceful rhythm, to have another body with her as she fell into a deep sleep.

“Sweet dreams, Mando.”

“…sweet dreams, _cyare._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave me suggestions, requests for events, feedback. I'm an amateur writer, so all is appreciated :)


End file.
